Dead Heroes
by WhereTheMildThingsAre
Summary: This tale follows Martin, a priest turned heir overnight, Freya, a prisoner turned hero in much the same time, and the members of the Blades, strange and unique all. The fate of Tamriel lies in their hands...Talos help us. UPDATE! 05.13
1. Scroll I: An Unsure Heir

Wheeeeeee...Oblivion fic, and the author's on crack!

Freya: Talos help us...

Martin: Indeed.

Shut up, you two. You're ruining my ambiance!

Martin: What ambiance? -blink-

...you talk too much.

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DISCLAIMER: I do not own The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion. If I did, certain characters would be...less dead-ish. I do, however, own the original characters I've created for the purpose of this fic. So have a cookie and keep reading.

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Scroll I: An Unsure Heir

Kvatch.

She watched it fade into the distance, the sun already beginning to set. It was in ruins now, fires still blazing across its once beautiful surface. Turning ahead, she glanced down at her hands. They still tingled. Prickled. That inferno, that Oblivion Gate, as it was called, had left her feeling...strange. Detached. She was no hero...and yet that was what she was being called now. The Hero of Kvatch. She shook her head.

Freya Eivarthr was in a bit of a mess. Two months ago, she'd arrived from the snowy isle of Solstheim along with her brother Freyr and their wolf companions, Skoll and Hati. After less than a month in Cyrodiil, they found themselves ambushed by strange creatures...strange indeed. Outnumbered and outmatched, they soon fell prey to their attackers. She'd blacked out at some point, she believed, for when she awoke, her brother Freyr and his companion Hati were missing. Wounded, worried and muddled, she'd set out to look for him, Skoll at her side. However, after some time looking, she found herself in a street brawl...one that she had, er..._unintentionally_ engaged. She was thrown in jail, not being able to pay the fine, and there she sat for three long weeks.

That was when she had met the now deceased Uriel Septim. She was released from her cell and followed the Emperor and his guards down the strange passage that had been opened. Well, wouldn't you know that he trusted her with the Amulet of Kings; a strange Septim relic. She had proceeded to find a man named Martin, the supposed last heir to the Septim throne, according to Jauffre, the man she'd been sent to see at Weynon Priory.

After a bit of a rough-'em-up inside the plane of Oblivion, she'd found Martin and he agreed to come back to Weynon Priory with her. However, by the looks of him, you'd think she'd held him at knife point. The young man looked troubled and dejected...though, it was no wonder after what she'd just told him.

"So...your name is Martin, is it?" Freya said, continuing to walk down the dirt path.

"I believe we established that, yes," Martin said, not appearing to be in the mood for conversation.

"I was just trying to..." Freya said, her sentence diminishing into mumbles. Huffily, she turned to face him, walking backwards towards their destination. "Look, I'm no more pleased about this than you are. I was pretty much dragged into this grand mess by the gods, apparently. There are things I would much rather be doing than playing the hero and part time bodyguard. I realise what I've told you is a great burden, but I think you could stand to be a little more hospitable, priest."

"If you truly do not wish to be here or to be doing this, then by all means, leave. I would not miss your company. You are a great warrior, and a fine person, I'm sure, but this is not what I need at the moment," Martin replied stiffly.

"Neither of us have much of a choice in the matter," Freya said, letting out a deep sigh. "We're in this for the long run, I know it. It may not be what you need right now...it's not what I need either...but I think what we need has been taken out of the equation at this point."

He was silent a long while. Shaking her head once again, Freya turned and walked frontward, leading the way. Skoll, the large white wolf of Solstheim, trotted at her heels. After a length of time, Martin spoke, catching her slightly off guard.

"I apologize. I know you are only trying to do as you've been told and I've made a poor traveling companion thus far. I shall make more of an effort to be open with you, Miss...?" Martin said, fishing for a name.

"Eh? I didn't even give you my name yet? Oh my, now I've been the rude one all along," Freya said, laughing with slight embarrassment. He chuckled in a good-natured manner, almost amused by her embarrassment. "My name is Freya. Freya Eivarthr. And this is my companion, Skoll."

"I see. Then it is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Eivarthr. And you as well, Skoll," Martin said, inclining his head, slightly.

Skoll barked happily at being addressed, trotting over to see if he might get his ears scratched out of the deal. Freya snickered slightly before laughing uproariously at something. Martin blinked.

"May I inquire as to what's so amusing?" he asked, uncertainly, wondering if it was he that she was laughing at.

"Oh...oh gods, no...it's just...gods, you, Martin!" Freya said between gasps of air. "Never...in my twenty-nine years of life...has anyone ever addressed me as Miss. Just...just call me Freya. Oh Talos, you're an amusing one!"

"Alright," Martin said uncertainly, petting Skoll as they continued walking.

There, things had brightened up already! Freya was pleased that he had opened up slightly. Being a Nord, she was used to the friendly, boisterous and open nature of her people, and so Martin's solitudinous behavior was strange for her. She was an oddity for a Nord, not the overbearing and towering warrior like the rest of her people, but of regular height. She was a few inches shorter than Martin even. But her short stature made her no less of a fierce warrior, as she had proved in Kvatch. She was pale skinned and auburn haired, styled in the traditional windbraids of her people and at shoulder length. She had deep lapis-lazuli eyes that seemed to taunt her opponents in combat, and yet seemed to laugh with more mirth than her lungs did when she was among good company. Dressed in the attire of a Kvatch soldier, thanks to the grateful men and women she served with, and bearing a large steel claymore, she certainly looked the part of a warrior.

Her companion Skoll, was a large white wolf rare even in Solstheim. Far larger than the timber wolves native to Cyrodiil, Skoll was an impressive sight...and often times, a frightening one. More intelligent than some humans she'd met, he was part of a rare race of wolves. The Nords respected these animals as near deities and it was a crime punishable by death to slay one...that is, if you could slay one. They possessed magical properties, as did their pelts, which was why they were so frequently sought after by traders. Many Nords made blood-pacts with certain animals, and those who were lucky enough to make a blood-pact with one of these wolves were seen as great and noble people.

Freya looked around them, noting that the sun had gone down. She frowned.

"Well...we certainly shouldn't travel in the dark like this. And it would be better to rest up and get a good start tomorrow...so we should set up camp somewhere along the road," she noted.

"I agree. It wouldn't make much sense for us to travel in this darkness," Martin replied.

Straying slightly off the path and to a grove of trees, they cleared the ground and set up camp; gathering firewood and setting a small tarp up for shelter in case it should rain. Freya managed to trap some rabbits, which proved lucky for them as they sat around the fire.

"So...you said you were from Solstheim. I thought Nords were living in Skyrim?" Martin said questioningly, tossing a bit of rabbit meat to Skoll who gnawed on it appreciatively.

"Well...yes, most Nords are...but some time ago, a tribe travelled from Skyrim to Solstheim and have flourished since. Even though it is now inhabited by Imperials as well, we still have control of the majority of the isle. Imperials don't like the cold much, it seems," Freya said with a laugh.

"No, not really," Martin agreed. "So then...what are you doing here of all places?"

"Well...I'm not sure," Freya conceded.

"You're not sure?" Martin said, laughing.

"Hey, it's not that funny," Freya pouted. "Well...I don't know why I'm in Cyrodiil only because...well, there are twelve tribes of Nords in Solstheim. I am of the Eivarthr tribe. There are Elders of each tribe who together make up the Council of Twelve. They make decisions as far as peace and war go between the tribes. My father was the Elder of Eivarthr as well as the Elder of all tribes...but he passed away a few months ago."

"I see. I'm sorry to hear that. It seems neither of us have had much luck with fathers lately," Martin said solemnly.

"Apparently not," Freya agreed. "Anyway...my father was a great man and an even greater leader. When he passed, the title of Elder could not be decided upon. He had two heirs, you see."

"Two? Wouldn't it be something like the eldest male to receive the title of heir?" Martin asked, appearing confused.

"Ordinarily, yes, the title would go to my brother Freyr. However, Freyr and I are twins. Since the title of heir is not gender conscious, it would go to whichever of us was born first. But the midwife who birthed us has long since passed, and my mother passed when I was seven and ten years. So no one knows which of us was born first. There is a ring which is passed down to the heir...my father had it melted down and formed into two identical rings, giving one to Freyr and one to myself. He said we should rule together. However, after his passing, the council would not allow this to happen. Knowing that our presence would only lead to trouble between the tribes, we made a joint decision to run away to the main land and leave them to decide among themselves," Freya said, twisting the silver ring that was around her thumb.

The fire bounced off its shiny silver surface, giving it the appearance that it was glowing. It was fashioned in true Nord style, a sort of braided metal with ancient symbols interwoven. She smiled slightly at the fond memories it gave her. It seemed fathers often left heirlooms to their children, she mused. Soon, Martin would receive the Amulet of Kings that his late father had left for him.

"That's quite the story. Your life doesn't appear to be too dull what with ruling feuds and Oblivion Gates," he said, smiling slightly. "However...what's become of your brother? You came here together, correct?"

"Yes, we did. We were attacked by some strange creatures...the same kinds of creatures I saw in that Oblivion Gate. I blacked out during the fight, as we were outnumbered...and when I awoke he and Hati were gone. I've been looking for them, though that was over a month ago," she said.

"And you've not been able to find them..." Martin mused. In the back of his mind, he thought they must surely be dead, but dared not say it. She looked as though she still held some hope that they were alive and he wouldn't want to rob her of it. He yawned slightly, but tried to conceal it.

"You should get some rest. Don't worry, you'll be safe. I'll be keeping watch," Freya informed him.

"What? No, I wouldn't think of resting if you weren't going to do the same," Martin protested.

"Well it wouldn't make very much sense if both of us went to sleep, would it? Say some bandits happened to show up or someone who knew of your identity," Freya warned.

His expression turned solemn again. He didn't like being treated this way. As though he were someone worth protecting. Until recently, he'd been a simple priest. Nothing more. Now to suddenly find himself heir to the throne...He frowned.

"Look, just...try and think of it as helping me to achieve my mission successfully, alright? I can't do that if you don't get some rest," Freya said with what she hoped was a comforting smile.

"You drive a hard bargain. Alright...but only this once," Martin said sternly, laying down to rest.

"Oh, I have a feeling I'll be watching you like this more than once..." Freya said to herself quietly.

The night wore on and Freya kept her post, sitting up against a tree with her sword across her shoulder. The fire had long since died to embers, leaving the stars and the moons to light the night. Skoll was curled up protectively next to Martin, who was fast asleep by this point. It was no wonder...the day had been stressful for everyone, but the mental stress he was under must be terrible. She felt slightly guilty on that part, as though she were the one who'd brought it upon him.

Her thoughts were once again interrupted as she heard a rustling nearby and a twig snap followed by harsh whispering in strange accents. Tensing up slightly, she managed to get to her feet quietly and look around. There, sneaking from across the dirt road were two people; an Argonian and Khajit, by the looks of it. They were creeping slowly towards Martin, swords drawn. She felt angry all of a sudden. How dare they attempt to attack him on her watch! The slight noise had awoken Skoll, who'd arisen as well, hackles raised, teeth bared and growling at the offenders.

"Take another step and I slit your throats," Freya whispered harshly.

The Khajit's ears twitched and he looked in her direction. With his Eye of Night, he could see her clearly, though, he doubted she could say the same. Moving swiftly, he ran towards her, his Argonian partner making a dash for Martin, who had begun to stir. Her blade met the Khajit's, sending a flurry of sparks around them. He was using an enchanted weapon!

"This is the part where you fall down and bleed to death!" the Khajit roared, swinging his weapon.

The weapon was to heavy for him to wield, she realised and saw her chance. Ducking, she dashed for the Khajit, swinging her claymore. It connected, cutting deeply into his side. He fell over, screaming in agony as she dashed forward. Martin was awake now, pulling a shortsword from in back of him. The Argonian was in mid swing, Skoll recovering from a blow dealt by some magicka. She knew it would be a long shot, but she lunged, catching the Argonian around the waste and sending them both rolling down the hillside. Martin quickly ran over with Skoll to try and be of some assistance, but Freya was already rising to her feet. The Argonian lay slain, pierced by her sword in their tumble. Luck was on her side, as she'd only been nicked on the shoulder by his sword.

"Are you alright?" Martin shouted, rushing down the hillside.

"I'm fine, why wouldn't I be?" Freya said with a laugh, feeling light-headed from battle.

"You saved my life," Martin said in a surprised manner.

"You see? I warned you about ban...bandits..." she stuttered.

Her vision had grown blurry all the sudden. Perhaps that light-headedness she'd felt wasn't from battle. Before she could ponder the matter further, her knees buckled and gave way. She supported herself on her knees, grasping onto her claymore, her shoulder burning.

"You're not alright," Martin said, looking around.

He stooped to inspect the blade of the Argonian, picking it up and looking at it in the moonlight. As he suspected, it was enchanted also. However, unlike the flame sword of the other, this one was laced with poison. Cursing himself silently, he hurried back over to Freya, who barely seemed to notice his presence. He reached into his robe and pulled out a small vial, placing a hand on her back as he did so.

"Don't worry. You saved my life, and now I'll return the favor," he assured her.

She could barely hear him. His words sounded echo like and she couldn't make them out. She felt a hand on her back as her vision was laced with darkness. The darkness proceeded further, drawing her in until she could no longer maintain consciousness.

* * *

Gasp! I didn't think it was possible...someone who talks _almost_ as much as Martin!

Martin: What? How rude! I do not talk--

Yeah, yeah...whatever. Next chapter: Murder! Mayhem! Jauffre!

Freya: Jauffre?

Yes, Jauffre. I'm not leaving him out of the story...perverted old man that he is.

Martin: Perverted?

Oh, yes. He's an incredible closet pervert. :P

Freya: I guess she wasn't lying when she said she was on crack...


	2. Scroll II: Lost and Found

Back again! And look guys, a review!

Freya: -snort- Who would bother reading this load of--

Aw, my first review. Such a memorable occasion. I think I'll frame it and mount it on my wall. Thanks very much, That Crazy Halo Girl! Love the pen name...I'm a Halo fan, too. :P

Martin: Is she always like this...?

Freya: I hope not. ..

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DISCALIMER: I do not own The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion. I do own my created characters, such as Freya, Freyr, Hati and Skoll, however. But damn! I wish I owned it! I'd like...set up an Oblivion gate in my gym class. Oh hell yes...

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Scroll II: Lost and Found 

_Oh gods. _

_She could feel the heat radiating off both of them. These two massive creatures. One was utterly demonic in appearance and drove fear like a spike into the pits of her heart. The other was a massive fiery dragon. Although it appeared a ferocious sight, there was something...familiar about it. Something so familiar it saddened her. She found herself struggling to reach the dragon as the two creatures fought. But she could not move. Not in the slightest. Why? Why couldn't she move? She needed to get to the dragon! She needed to..._

_Needed to get to him..._

_...needed to..._

She woke suddenly with a gasp, drenched in cold sweat. Her armor had been removed and she was in her regular clothes. Rubbing at her eyes, she tried to clear the blurriness from them. What had happened? What were those beasts she'd seen? A dream? No...but it had to be. And yet...

"Feeling better?"

Freya was startled to see Martin hovering over her. She stared up at him blankly.

"...yes. But...what happened?" she asked.

"Well, we were attacked last night, if you recall. By the time I woke up you'd already thrown yourself into battle. Literally. Ah...well after a struggle with our attackers, you emerged victorious. But you were nicked by a poisoned blade and fell unconscious," Martin explained, sitting next to her.

"Oh. I see," she said shortly, raising a hand in front of her face, clenching it into a fist once or twice, then looking back to him. "Why aren't I dead?"

He laughed slightly. "I happened to have a remedy with me. You were rather lucky."

"Oh, well thank you," Freya said with a sigh, closing her eyes.

She lay for a moment, before her eyes snapped open and she shot straight up. Martin stared at her.

"What am I doing? We need to get you to Weynon Priory! I'm supposed to be watching you, not the other way around! Dammit! Dammit all to Oblivion!" she cursed, jumping up and beginning to throw on her armor.

Martin watched her with some sort of fascination and awe, Skoll sitting beside him. The Nord woman cursed vehemently as she finished with her armor and hurriedly cleaned up camp. He sighed and looked to the massive white wolf.

"Glad she's feeling better," he said, awkwardly.

He rose and helped her where he could before they set out on the road again, walking in silence, save for her constantly muttered curses. After some time, he cleared his throat and addressed her. She whipped around and got right up in his face.

"What?!"

"...I'm not sure why you're angry with me," he stated flatly.

She deflated slightly, staring at the ground in defeat.

"I'm sorry Martin. I'm...that was wrong of me, I shouldn't have lashed out at you for my incompetence," Freya apologized.

"Incompetence?" Martin questioned.

"I've been charged with the task of protecting you...not the other way around. To be wounded and need your care is an insult to my pride as a warrior and the trust Jauffre has put in me," Freya said.

"Now, you listen to me. From what you explained to me last night, you are spending your time protecting me instead of looking for your brother. You've risked your life looking for me and protecting me, so for me to help you a little makes me feel better. Alright?" Martin assured her.

"...fine. But I'm still not happy about it. And I won't let it happen again," Freya said resolutely.

"Great. Then let's continue, shall we?" Martin advised.

She nodded slightly and the three of them continued down the path. She still felt embarrassment burning inside her gut like a raging fire. Martin didn't seem too bothered, but it bothered her. As a warrior and a Nord, she'd been taught to fend for herself. While it was true that her people were big on teamwork and helping your friends, being helped by someone you were supposed to be protecting was downright shameful. Well there was nothing she could do about it now. She'd just have to make sure to protect Martin all the better. Speaking of Martin...

"You seem more...amiable today," Freya said.

"Yes, well...I had time to think last night when you'd fallen asleep. I thought...about many things. I realised that I had started things off on the wrong foot. A man cannot deny his destiny...and if this is my destiny, then I should embrace it like a man, and accept it," Martin said firmly.

Freya looked back at him.

"I'm glad you feel that way. You know...you're right. Your father spoke to me shortly before he passed. He told me...that the gods had told him to entrust me with the responsibilities he's since placed on me. At first I thought it a terrible burden. In some senses...maybe I still see it that way. However...in the same sense...maybe...this wasn't such a bad thing. They say that people you run into, those chance meetings, are once in a lifetime. That they should be cherished. So I suppose I'm glad I met you," Freya said with a smile, walking down the dusty dirt path.

"Likewise. You're not as horrid as I thought you were," Martin replied.

"..."

"...?"

"...you thought I was horrid?"

"Oh, er...well you see, when you came into the chapel and began spouting what I thought was nonsense at the time, you seemed...a bit..."

"Horrid?"

"Well...more like horridly insane..."

"Oh, I see. That's _much_ better," Freya said, rolling her eyes, a smirk on her lips.

"You must understand. I mean, it's not everyday someone comes running into--"

"I was just fooling around with you. No need to get so flustered," Freya said, smiling.

"Ugh...sometimes it's hard to tell whether you're being sarcastic or serious," Martin sighed.

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

"It depends."

"I suppose it would."

Freya was surprised to find that Martin was quite capable of fending for himself. Running into timber wolves and bandits alike, he charged straight into the fight with her. He was rather adept at healing as well...something she was working on herself. It seemed strange that this man, who she thought was a simple priest, was so well-suited to combat. So well-suited to danger. She shrugged it off as they drew close to their destination, feeling a weight being lifted off her shoulders.

...and an even larger one being placed upon them as the man who minded the stables came galloping towards them in a near frenzy. Perhaps she should have asked Martin to let her die that slow, painful death instead, she mused.

"Please! You just help!" the man gasped, reaching them.

"What's going on here?" Martin asked calmly.

"People...people in strange red robes are attacking us...Prior Mabel has already been slain...please! Help us!" the man pleaded, shaking horribly.

Freya frowned, drawing her weapon. People in strange red robes? It didn't ring a bell...who would attack a Priory, anyway? Perhaps...had they learned of Martin's identity? No. No, it was too soon for that. Who could possibly have found out?

"Alright. Get somewhere safe. I'll handle things here," Freya said.

"_We'll _handle things," Martin said, ushering the man off.

"We? There is no we. I'll do the fighting, you do the...priest...ing," Freya said awkwardly.

"...that's not even a word," Martin replied flatly.

"...shut-up," Freya pouted. "Just stick close to me at least...alright?"

"That I can do," Martin said, charging after her as they raced toward the Priory.

Two or three red robed figures were in the yard, Jauffre fending off all of them. Freya was surprised by the old man's agility and dexterity in combat...but then again, she'd been surprised by Martin as well. Gripping her claymore, she made a strike towards one of the figures. To her shock, he whipped around suddenly and a clang echoed throughout the yard as their blades met. In his hurry to block her attack, his hood had fallen back, revealing fiery auburn hair and striking lapis-lazuli eyes.

"Freyr?!" she gasped, almost forgetting she were fighting.

He seemed not to hear her, swinging his mighty blade at her and driving her back. She parried, confused and now distraught. What was her brother doing with these people? Why was he fighting her? A grunt of pain distracted her. Martin staggered back, clutching his left arm, grimacing and still prepared to fend off his attacker. Momentarily forgetting her brother, she dashed toward Martin, standing in front of him and parrying the blow meant for him before quickly taking down her opponent. Jauffre had since disposed as his adversary as well and hustled over to them. Freya looked around distractedly, her brother having vanished.

She felt a dull ache in her chest and vaguely wondered if it was because of this incident. Jauffre shaking her by the shoulder made her alert once more.

"Come with me, quickly. There's not time to talk right now. We must make sure the Amulet is safe," Jauffre said hurriedly.

She nodded numbly, hurrying after him alongside Martin. They entered the Priory and headed up the staircase and to the left into a room Jauffre said he'd kept it in. Searching frantically for a moment, the old man growled in defeat, fists clenched and face set in anger.

"They've taken it," he announced.

"Taken it? But why? Who are they?" Freya blurted, barely stifling back the other hundred questions racing through her mind.

"We're not sure who they are yet...but it is obvious they know of Martin," Jauffre sighed.

"Then they've taken the Amulet so the Dragonfires cannot be re-lit," Freya concluded.

"That's the most probable answer, yes," Jauffre informed her.

"What shall we do about it? Martin can't stay here," she said, worried.

"No, he can't. I have decided it would be best if we took Martin to Cloud Ruler Temple. I believe he would be safe there," Jauffre decided.

"I would prefer it if the both of you would not continue to speak as though I weren't standing right here," Martin said in a slightly irate tone, still clutching his arm.

The two stared at him blankly for a moment before offering some sort of muddled and slightly mumbled apology. Freya eyed his arm, removing her gauntlets long enough to cast a slight healing spell. It didn't work quite as well as she would have hoped, but it had stopped the bleeding. She frowned at her poor job.

"I could have taken care of it," Martin said.

"Well you didn't. And I need the practice, as you can tell," Freya said, miserably.

"...right. Anyway...what's this Cloud Ruler Temple?" Martin inquired.

"It is the home of the Blades. I am the former Grand Master of these Blades, a secret organization that guards the Emperor," Jauffre informed him.

"Grand job you've done so far," Freya said before she could stop herself.

She earned a glare from both Martin and Jauffre as well as a slightly warning growl from Skoll, displeased with her comment. She flushed with embarrassment...it was a bad habit of hers to sometimes blurt things out before thinking. She mumbled another apology. Jauffre shrugged his shoulders.

"Well, if we are to make it to Cloud Ruler Temple before Nightfall, we should set out immediately. There is nothing more we can do here," the Blades Grand Master said, leading the way out of the Priory.

As they descended the stairs, Martin cast a glance at his Nord companion, who still seemed slightly distracted. He wondered what was bothering her...and wondered if perhaps it was him. If she viewed him as a burden...a distasteful task she'd rather be rid of. They all walked over to the stables and Jauffre mounted his horse, motioning for Martin to mount one of the other's. He looked to Freya.

"You should ride Prior Mabel's horse. Without a master, I believe his ownership should now transfer to you," he said.

"Oh. Thank you...does...he have a name?" she asked.

"Hmm...not that I know of. Perhaps you shall think of one," Jauffre said lightly as she mounted.

"Sleipnir."

"Huh?"

Martin and Jauffre shot her confused glances.

"Sleipnir. That's his new name," Freya said with a smile.

The horse whinnied, pawing the ground in an almost joyful manner. Martin chuckled.

"You get along well with animals, don't you?" he asked.

"Of course. All Nords do," she stated, as though it should be common knowledge.

The three set out on horseback, traveling at a moderate pace, Skoll trotting alongside them. Freya stared out across the beautiful landscape, her normally clear lapis-lazuli eyes clouded by thought. Her brother...her other half, had attacked as though he hadn't even known her. There was something definitely wrong. His eyes had seemed hazy and unclear. He hadn't seemed himself. Not only that, Hati was nowhere to be seen. She knew her brother well, and he would never go anywhere if it meant going without his constant companion.

"Are you alright?"

The Nord woman looked to Martin, blinking. His strong, lightning-blue eyes regarded her curiously. She realised their eyes were very similar...She smiled.

"Oh, I'm alright," she assured him.

"You've been acting strange since we left the Priory. There's something you're not telling us," Martin said.

Her eyes shied away from his, but she found them wandering back. Man or beast, there were few that could stare her down. But there was something about this man's gaze that was...powerful. She felt it in her bones. It was the same look she had seen in the eyes of Uriel Septim...and her father...and her brother. She frowned slightly.

"I believe I knew one of the men attacking the Priory," she said.

"You do?" he asked in a surprised manner. "This is excellent! This may give us some clue as to who they are!"

"Martin, it's not--"

"Jauffre, Freya knows one of the people in red-robes!"

"Martin..."

"You do? Well who are they?"

"I have no idea!" she growled.

"What...? If you are with-holding information, it could put Martin's life in jeopardy," Jauffre retorted, pulling his horse in front of hers and stopping.

She brought her own horse to a stop as well, jaw clenched. Her words came out as a hiss; Martin was half sure that she would have lunged at Jauffre if given the chance.

"The man was my brother Freyr. If I knew why he was with them or who they were or what they were doing, I would have told you. Now until I come to know any of this information, I would appreciate it if you would keep your false accusations of with-held information to yourself, Grand Master," Freya hissed

Jauffre regarded her haughtily for a moment. She was a fine warrior, one of the best he had seen, but her people skills needed a little work. She could be rude, blunt and overconfident to be sure. But then, he had seen her as a kind young woman who was a little lost at the moment when he'd first come to her. So far she'd done as he asked, he supposed he must be grateful. And perhaps he had accused her wrongly. He spurred his horse forward.

"I apologize. You are, of course, correct," Jauffre said, moving forward and not looking back.

They continued on in silence, Martin and Freya keeping pace behind the Blades Grand Master. Martin mused on the oddness of the situation. It was as though they'd completely reversed roles. Now she seemed cold and distant and he was the curious one, trying to be friendly.

"I'm sorry, my friend. It was not my place to pry. I should have held my tongue," he tried.

"It's not your fault. I'm just..."

Her sentence dwindled off and she let out a mighty sigh, running a hand through her bangs in a slightly irate manner.

"I'm being an ass, that's all. I miss my brother and my home. I am the one who should be apologizing...to you and Jauffre."

"There is no need for apology," Jauffre said, not looking back.

"...I can tell you that there is something very wrong with those people, though. They all seemed strangely detached. Especially Freyr," she mused.

"I agree. They looked...crazed, almost," Martin intoned.

"Hopefully we can find out more information about them. And retrieve the Amulet," Jauffre said.

As they continued onward, they passed a town, snow all around it. Jauffre informed them that this was the town of Bruma and pointed up to the nearby Jerall Mountains, indicating their destination was just up the ridge. Freya smiled. The way the setting sun was reflecting off the snowy mountain caps reminded her of home. It both gladdened and saddened her at the same time. Jauffre told her of how much Nordic influence there was in the construction of Bruma, and she immediately brightened up, spouting out all sorts of tales and making the two men smile.

As the moon began to rise, they reached the top of the peak, stalling outside a large fortress. It looked very impressive to Martin and Freya, who knew nought the goings-on of such secret organizations as the Blades. After some time, the massive doors opened and they trotted inside and dismounted between two rows of armoured figures. Martin shifted uncomfortably as Jauffre informed them of his identity. However, he felt the need to say something at least...

"All of you...I know you all expect me to be emperor, and I'll do my best, but...this is all new to me. I'm not used to giving speeches but, I wanted you to know that I appreciate your welcome here. I...hope I prove myself worthy of your loyalty in the coming days. That's it...thank you..."

"Well then, we'd all best be getting back to our duties, eh Captain?" Jauffre said, nodding his head slightly.

The soldiers took this as a sign to go back to what they'd been doing before and dispersed. Freya turned to Martin, who still looked uneasy. His eyes met hers, looking uncertain. He gave her a short, humorless grin.

"Not much of a speech, was it? Didn't seem to bother them, though. I don't mean to sound ungrateful, I know I would probably be dead by now if it weren't for you, and I thank you," he said with a sigh. "But...everyone expects me to suddenly know what to do. How to behave. They want an Emperor to tell them what to do, and I haven't the faintest idea..."

She studied him. Since arriving at Cloud Ruler Temple, his hopeless outlook had returned. She hoped to get rid of it.

"We need to get the Amulet back," Freya blurted.

He smiled slightly.

"Of course. The Amulet of Kings. So we..._I_...can take it to the Temple of the One and light the Dragonfires. And stop the Oblivion invasion," he said.

"And you will be the Emperor," she concluded with a grin.

"The Emperor..." he said, frowning slightly and weighing the thought in his mind. "...that's an idea that will take some getting used to. In any case, we need the Amulet first. Maybe Jauffre will know where to start."

"Yes, good idea. Erm...Jauffre. Do you...have any idea what should be done next?" Freya asked.

The old Grand Master looked up from the conversation he was having with Captain Steffan. He seemed to think it over before excusing himself from the Captain and approaching Martin and Freya. He stood directly in front of Freya, tall and proud, no longer the old Prior she'd first met. Looking her squarely in the eye, he spoke with authority.

"I believe, you have a choice to make," he said.

Both Martin and Freya looked at him in a confused manner.

"Choice?" she echoed.

"Yes, a choice. You have aided us more than I could have ever hoped for and it would be a shame to lose a warrior with such potential. However...the choice is not mine to make. I know of your situation, and so I offer it to you."

The Nord woman clenched and unclenched her fists in anticipation, standing stiffly and waiting for the words to come next. When they did, she felt as thought she'd had a large fist driven into her gut, knocking the wind from her.

"Freya Eivarthr, you are presented with a choice. You may join us as a Knight Sister of the Blades and continue to aid us, or...you may leave us now and continue the search for your brother. The choice...is yours."

* * *

Phew, another chapter done!

Freya: Thank Akatosh...

Martin: Thank anyone... -mentally exhausted-

Next chapter...is the one I'm really looking forward to. It delves into the characters I've created for the Blades a bit and gives some character to pre-existing ones. Plus you meet my two awesome characters, Roran and Toran. And what will Freya choose? Obviously we know, because at some point I have to have her and Martin...-sing song voice making a rather crude body motion- GET IT ON!

Martin: My word! That's just...we're not evern...we barely know each other, why would we do that?

Freya: I'll kill you, you little scamp! -furious-

Eep! -Demyx immitation- Run away! R&R is appreciated!


	3. Scroll III: What the Heart Wants

Back for chapter three, mates! And look, more reviews!

Martin: It defies all logic...

Freya: Yes. I fear the worst. For us, I mean.

Martin: Reviews fuel the fire?

Freya: Unfortunately.

Thanks a bunch to **Moonmage** and **Lunatic Pandora1**. Yeah, you just can't find reliable armor until you're a member of the Blades. And I needed an excuse for a dream sequence. Since she was supposed to be staying awake...I made her pass out. Problem fixed! Whoopee! Anyway, I hope you all continue to read. This chapter's pretty fun, in my opinion. I give a little character to some of the Blades members, which will develop as the story goes on. I heart RoTo. And you should too if you know what's good for ye! Rawr!

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DISCLAIMER: I do not own The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion. If I did, you would be able to go back to Morrowind and such. Trust me. I tried. Damn invisible mountain walls!

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Scroll III: What the Heart Wants 

_"Freya Eivarthr, you are presented with a choice. You may join us as a Knight Sister of the Blades and continue to aid us, or...you may leave us now and continue the search for your brother. The choice...is yours."_

Freya stared at Jauffre, her mind wandering. What did she want? That was the question here. For the first time in the past few days, she was being asked what _she_ wanted. Not what the gods had expected of her. Or what the late Emperor expected of her. Or Jauffre. Her brother...her other half...was out there. She'd been searching for quite some time. And yet...

Martin studied the woman carefully. Her features were contorted in such a manner that purveyed deep thought. This should be an easy decision for her, he thought. He knew she wanted to go after her brother more than anything...so why the hesitation? However, the thought of this made him feel strange. Her not being there, well...it would seem strange, wouldn't it? She knew him the best of everyone in this Cloud Ruler Temple he supposed. And she was...supportive. He liked that.

"I think..." she mumbled.

Jauffre seemed to be leaning forward, teetering on his toes. She smiled slightly.

"I think...I'll stick around," she concluded.

Martin smiled along with her and Jauffre looked pleased. He instructed her to bend on one knee. Looking slightly confused, she did so. Jauffre handed his blade, and Akivari-Dai Katana, to Martin, who took the weapon in a confused manner. Freya wondered just what Jauffre was doing.

"It is custom for either the Blades Grand Master or the Emperor to initiate certain members into the Organization of the Blades," Jauffre informed them. "I thought it might be good practice for Martin if he swore you in. Help you both get used to your new positions."

The old man grinned playfully, the two others looking rather displeased about this. After listening to what he was supposed to say, Martin awkwardly stood before Freya.

"Do you hereby pledge your service to the Emperor and the Empire?" he asked.

"Aye. My blade is yours. I am your sword...I am your shield," she answered, head bowed.

Jauffre's eyebrows raised slightly. An impressive and rather formal answer, considering it came from her. Martin lightly touched each of her shoulders with the Katana.

"Then rise, Freya Eivarthr, Knight Sister of the Blades," Martin said.

She did so, an odd smirk playing on her features. Martin gave the Katana back to Jauffre, the two of them regarding her suspiciously. She made a low, sweeping boy, mirth in her voice.

"Excellently done, your Highness," she said.

Martin looked at her, flustered. "Please...don't call me that. Just call me Martin."

Jauffre chuckled. "Well let's give both of you a tour, shall we?"

"Let us do that, Master!"

The three of them looked up to see two people hurrying towards them. They were shorter than Freya and Martin, with creamy skin and pointed ears. They both had dazzling emerald eyes, and while both had a shock of wavy, fiery red hair, one had his parted to the left, the other to the right. They were wearing Blades armor, but no helmets. Despite the weight of the armor, they pranced about lightly. Both wore large grins as they stopped at the group, and now freckles could be seen on both of them. Jauffre grinned in a semi-humorous manner.

"Ah...you two. Er, I'm not sure..."

"Please, we promise we'll--

"--be really good!"

"Well...alright. Martin, Freya, meet RoTo," Jauffre relented.

"Ro...To?" Martin echoed.

"Roran Nirnleaf," said one.

"And Toran Nirnleaf," said the other.

Freya smiled genuinely. "You're twins."

"And you are a twin, too!" they chorused.

She looked surprised and sad at the same time. Of course. It was easy for twins to identify other twins. It was just something you knew. She smiled brightly.

"Well then, I suppose you're going to show us around?"

"Yes, ma'am!" they chorused.

Roran grabbed her hand while Toran grabbed Martin's, dragging the two off unexpectedly.

"Come on, m'lord!" Toran yelled.

"D-Don't call me that! It's just...ack! MARTIN!!"

Jauffre chortled with laughter as the archer twins carried off the future Emperor and one of their finest warriors. Perhaps it was a good idea to let those two take care of it. In a short while they would have to get down to business, so letting them have a little fun now would be good for them. Besides, he was getting too old for those kinds of things. Skoll snorted, standing next to him, shooting Jauffre a look as though he knew what the man had been thinking.

"You're not off with your master?" he said questioningly.

The large white wolf shook it's massive head, looking instead towards the doors of the Great Hall. The old man laughed loudly.

"I see. Well then, let's go see if we've got some venison laying around for you," he said, making his way towards the Great Hall.

This seemed to please the wolf, as he trotted pleasantly behind Jauffre and into the hall.

+-----------------------------------------------------/O/B/L/I/V/O/N/-----------------------------------------------------------------+

Freya twisted around, trying to get a better look at herself. She'd been given Blades armor and had just put it on. It seemed too...high classed for her. Such an elite organization and she'd been accepted just like that. It was weird. She looked...weird. She frowned.

"It's very becoming," Martin intoned behind her.

She jumped, startled. She'd been changing in a separate room and hadn't expected him to sneak up behind her. Her face flushed instantly and, though she was fully clothed, crossed her arms in front of her chest.

"It's...rude to sneak up on a woman like that," she said.

"Of course, er...I apologize," Martin said, understanding her meaning. "Erm...no helmet?"

"Oh...no. I've never worn one. I like my enemies to know who they're dealing with," she replied, less affronted.

"That's interesting," Martin said, taking a seat on a nearby chair. "If I may ask, and I hope I am not prying, but...why is it that you chose to stay? I would have thought you would rather go after your brother."

"Well...the way I see it, I might get a good chance to find him even while I help you out. Killing two scribs with one stone, you see? And I couldn't very well just leave you here. What if those people in the red robes showed up again?" she replied, studying the Akivari Katanas on a nearby wall.

"I see...and this is why you've chosen to stay?"

"Yes. Gods or not, I have a purpose here. As do you," she reminded him.

"Hmm...yes...a purpose."

He still looked uncomfortable with the idea. To him, he was just...Martin. And that was it. The thought of ruling a nation sent chills up his spine. He was no politician. He'd probably just run the nation straight into the ground. And these Blades seemed to expect so much of him...he wasn't sure he could come anywhere near meeting such expectations. Perhaps he was right, and they had gotten the wrong person. It was a mistake. But no...he'd believed Freya. Trusted her. And yet, was she even sure?

He jumped slightly when he finally noticed she had taken a seat next to him. She regarded him carefully through sharp lapis-lazuli orbs, her arms folded across her chest and her right leg crossed over her left.

"You shouldn't worry. You'll make a fine ruler," she told him.

He laughed humorlessly. "Everyone seems convinced of that except me."

"Martin. You are a good man. Your eyes are full of warmth and compassion, yet behind that, there is power and strength. You see? You have the eyes of a wise man and a great ruler. You will not fail in the task that has been set before you, nor shall I fail in mine. You have the capacity to be great if only you would give yourself the opportunity to try. However...for now...it would be best if you just concentrated on finding yourself."

"Finding myself?"

"Yes. You're still confused, despite what you told me earlier. You need to think things through. You need to make a decision, just as I have...are you Martin the Priest? Or Martin the Emperor?"

He bowed his head slightly, staring at his hands as they lay folded in his lap. It was a strange question...which one was he? And then it came to him. A certain realization. He looked up suddenly.

"I'm both," he proclaimed.

"Hmm?"

"I'm both. Martin the Emperor and Martin the Priest are...the same person," he concluded. "I just have to imagine Cyrodiil as a Temple...in that way, I am still a priest and the citizens are merely Temple-goers."

"An interesting answer. I was hoping you'd opt for another answer," she said.

"Another answer? And what would that be?"

"Hmm...maybe I'll tell you some other time."

"Oh you're no fun at all, you horrible cheat."

"Oh? And you're fun?"

While the two chatted, they didn't know that they were being watched just outside the door. Roran and Toran had called over a group of the Blades Knights, who were watching in a rather interested, albeit perplexed manner. Captain Steffan quirked an eyebrow, looking to his subordinates.

"So you two think they're...involved?" he asked, confused.

"Definitely, sir!"

"Just look at them!"

The rest of them did so, somewhat seeing the twins' point. They did seem to be very friendly. Pelagius tilted his head to the side and Achille squinted. Jena seemed to be rooting them on under her breath. And then the worst happened. Freya went rigid in her seat all of a sudden, then slowly turned around, a menacing glare attached to her features. The Blades froze like deer in the head-lights. And scattered.

Taking shelter in their quarters they discussed what they had seen.

"I don't think they are, they just look like friends, if that," Captain Steffan reasoned.

"No, I think RoTo are on to something. Maybe we'll get an Empress out of this deal," Jena said with a giggle.

"Oh, that's an idea! The Septim Line does need to be continued after all," Achille responded, nodding at the idea.

"Yeah, but who's to say they're...well they might not be. I mean...she had a ring on her thumb. And she's Nordic. Isn't that a Nordic partnership thing? You know...the ring on your thumb?" Pelagius asked, munching on an apple.

"Well...did m'lord have a ring on his thumb?" Roran asked.

"No, he didn't," Toran said dejectedly.

"So it's not him. She's taken," Jena said in much the same mood.

"Well, wait...that Nordic partner thing...doesn't it depend _which _thumb it's on?" Achille asked.

"You know you may be right. I believe it was the right thumb that signified partnership," Pelagius responded. "Let's ask Roliand, he would know."

The group moved as one to the East Wing where Roliand was on his break, Arcturus having taken his place patrolling the outer wall of Cloud Ruler Temple. He looked up in a confused manner as they all approached him. Placing down the dagger he'd been sharpening, he looked to them expectantly.

"Er...yes?"

"Roliand, Nords in a partnership who wear rings wear it on their thumbs, right?" Pelagius asked.

"Well, those that choose to, yes," he responded, curious.

"Which thumb do they traditionally wear it on?" Jena pushed.

"Well...traditionally it is worn on the right. And partnership isn't much of contracted bond as marriage. It's more like...marriage guidelines," Roliand said. "One of you guys thinking of entering a partnership? Oh, wait...let me guess. Jena and Cap'n? You two always made a nice couple. Hey congra--"

"Nonono...not us. No," Jena said hurriedly, face flushed.

"Quick, which was she wearing it on?" Captain Steffan demanded, completely having ignored the latter half of Roliand's answer.

"Left!" Roran and Toran chorused happily.

"So she's _not _taken. There may be hope yet," Jena intoned.

"Alright. Blades, any free time you have will be focused on getting those two together. I want you thinking up ways on how to achieve this goal, even in your sleep. We will not rest until the Empire is safe and those two are together. Am I clear?" Captain Steffan asked.

"Yes, sir!" the Blades in the room responded, with the exception of Roliand.

"Sir, may I ask what's going on here?" he asked.

"We're trying to get the future Emperor and Knight Sister Freya together for the good of the Empire," Captain Steffan said proudly.

"For the good of the Empire," Roliand said questioningly.

"For the good of the Empire," the Captain repeated.

"..."

"...would you care to join--"

"Count me in," Roliand said immediately.

"Excellent choice, Brother," Captain Steffan said, patting him on the shoulder.

+-----------------------------------------------------/O/B/L/I/V/O/N/-----------------------------------------------------------------+

Martin sneezed. Three times consecutively.

"Someone must be talking about you," Freya intoned.

"No, I think it's just the weather up here...I think..." he said indecisively.

If only the two knew that they were being conspired against. They would begin to realize in time, that they were being watched; after finding Captain Steffan and Pelagius hiding in a closet, Roliand pretending to be asleep, Jena behind a cupboard and RoTo somehow clinging to the ceiling of a room they were talking in. On several occasions. However, that would all come later. For now, they remained unaware.

The poor fools.

* * *

Kekekekeke...

Freya: Evil. Vile. Despicable.

Martin: Embarrassing. Horrid. Torture.

It wasn't that bad. I didn't make you guys do anything...yet.

Martin: The Blades are becoming strange...and you made them that way. -sigh-

Uh...yeah? It says so in the summary that I would. Silly Martin. :P

Next chapter! Getting started on quests and such, the continuation of the Blades attempts to fix those two up, maybe some action, maybe some peril...and maybe some people will get drunk! Or the chapter after...it depends. Writing people as being drunk is so fun. -laughs- Well, R&R is appreciated!


	4. Scroll IV: A Bit of Heavy Reading

Chapter four has arrived at last! Hooray!

Freya: Boo!

Martin: I can't say I'm particularly pleased about it, either.

You two are no fun at all. I'll have to throw in something risque in one of the upcoming chapters. -cackle-

Freya: You're evil. Evil.

Martin: I half suspect you to be behind all this assassination and what-not.

Maybe I am. Dun-Dun-Duuuuuuuuun! -shock- Anyway, thanks very much to my reviewers: **That Crazy Halo Girl**, **Gloriana the Younger**, **L'Ankou**, **Lunatic Pandora1** and **Kiriu**. Thanks ever so much for all your lovely reviews! I apologize for not getting this chapter out sooner but I've been weighed down by schoolwork...and Oblivion, as it were. Hopefully I won't disappoint you!

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DISCLAIMER: I do not own The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion! Don't assume I'm not wishing it every waking moment, though. Because you know what happens when you assume. You make an ASS out of U and ME. :P

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Scroll IV: A Bit of Heavy Reading

She was the first one to awake that morning. Throwing on her new Blades equipment, she strolled out of the Main Hall and up the battlements. Arcturus, an Imperial Blade, was on his shift of patrolling the outer wall, but save for him all was quiet. The sun had just risen and thus had not been given a chance to warm the land yet. The air was cool with a bite and smelt of snow. She inhaled deeply, closing her eyes for a moment, as the smells and feelings brought back memories of her childhood. Back home.

_"Haha, look at shorty!"_

_"Yeah, there's no way she'll be able to fight for herself."_

_"Her brother will probably just have to protect her like he always does."_

_"Or that stupid wolf."_

_"Yeah, I'll bet!"_

_The group of boys ran away laughing and continuing to pelt her with snow until they were mere speck on the horizon. Slowly, she got up, shaking the snow off of her person and examining the scratches on her. Her father would not be pleased. Being bullied in a Nord tribe was pathetic, a sign of weakness. She had a feeling she was in for another long training session tonight._

_But it wasn't her fault she was short! It had to be something else...She did everything exactly as the other Nords did, and yet only she was of a shorter height. It became something others used to pick on her and she knew that if she couldn't gain their respect, then she could never become the Elder of the Eivarthr Tribe. Her mother hadn't cared, though. She'd loved Freya and Freyr equally with no room for judgement. But she was gone now._

_At eighteen years of age, Freya Eivarthr stood at a mere five feet and three inches; practically a midget as far as a Nord was concerned. Even making a blood-pact with the Great White Wolf hadn't been enough for them to respect her. She wondered if they ever would._

_"Freya, what are we going to do with you?"_

_Looking behind her, she noticed Freyr coming along with Skoll and Hati at his side. Skoll hurried over to her, pushing his snout into her hand. She stared at the ground in shame._

_"You've got to learn how to stand up to those guys," Freyr said, practically towering over her, though they were twins._

_"I don't want to. They're a waste of time. Their brains are the equivalent of scrib jelly," Freya responded._

_"Well...that might be true, but is it really okay to let them keep teasing you?" he asked._

_"Pfft. They're just boys. Boys are morons anyway," she said with a smirk._

_"Hey, hey, I'm a boy," Freyr said, pretending to pout._

_"Well, you can be the exception. But I won't let them go on teasing me forever. They won't be able to," Freya said._

_"Oh? Why's that?" Freyr asked, scratching Hati's ears._

_"Because," she said resolutely, "someday I'm going to be the greatest warrior Tamriel has ever seen. I'm going to be the best...and I won't stop until I am."_

_"That's a rather large dream you've got there, sister," Freyr said with a laugh._

_But she didn't respond. She was staring off into the horizon, where the boys had run off. She was serious._

_"Freya?"_

"Freya?"

A light touch on her shoulder startled her and she jumped. Panicked, she grabbed the wrist of the offended and flipped him over her shoulder, holding him by the wrist and letting him dangle. With a frown, she peered over the edge to see who it was...and nearly dropped Martin.

"Martin?! By the Nine Divines, I didn't know it was you! I'm so sorry, I was a bit preoccupied with my thoughts and you startled me so much I hadn't even thought to check who it was that had--"

"Y-Yes, yes, that's wonderful...now pull me up!" he said in a slightly strained tone of voice.

She did so hurriedly, making sure he was alright once he was standing on the battlement next to her. In his post, Arcturus looked as though he'd just had a massive heart attack as he stared at the two.

"I'm really sorry, I shouldn't have reacted like that," Freya apologized earnestly. She'd just been initiated as a Blade yesterday, someone sworn to protect the Emperor, and here she'd almost just thrown him off the battlements! It was humiliating. "You just...caught me mid-daydream."

"Yes, well...just so long as you're more careful in the future," Martin said, looking a bit skittish yet.

"Erm...something...you wanted to see me about?" she asked.

"Yes, actually. Well, Jauffre wanted to see you specifically, I came to get you," Martin said.

"Oh, alright. Let's go see him, then," Freya said, allowing him to lead the way.

As they walked into the Great Hall, she noticed some time seemed to have passed. Just how long had she been standing out there day-dreaming? It must have been a couple of hours, at least. Everyone was already up, as was the sun, which made the surrounding snowy terrain seem to glow. Bruma shimmered in the distance. Entering and walking over to Jauffre, the two sat, both looking eager to see what it was the old Grand Master had to say.

"We have some information. The people at Weynon Priory are part of a cult known as The Mythic Dawn. They worship Mehrunes Dagon," Jauffre said matter-of-factly.

Martin nodded knowingly at the mention of the name, however, Freya stared blankly at Jauffre, raising an eyebrow for wont of an explanation. He stared back.

"Erm...Mehrunes Dagon? One of the sixteen Princes of Oblivion?" he offered.

She shrugged unknowingly. Jauffre sighed and appeared ready to bang his head on the table, while she could have sword she saw Martin trying to suppress a laugh. Or cover it with one of the phoniest coughs she'd ever heard. She frowned, resting her chin in her palm and her elbow upon the table.

"Hmph. Well excuse me if I'm not exactly up to date on the Handbook of Villains, alright? Just...explain what we need to do," she grumbled.

"I need you to see Baurus in the Imperial City. Poor chap's taken Uriel's death rather hard, I'm afraid," he said, shaking his head. Waving a dismissive hand, he continued. "Anyway...he's got a lead on the Mythic Dawn, and I wish for you to go speak to him. He'll be waiting in Luther Broad's Boarding House in the Elven District."

"I understand," Freya said, rising to her feet and stretching."Well then, off to the Imperial City!"

"Just a moment!" Jauffre called, rising also.

"Eh?"

"You don't plan to go out with that, do you?" Jauffre said, pointing at her claymore.

She glanced around uncertainly, as though it were some kind of trick question, and answered hesitantly. "Erm...yes?"

"No, no, that won't do. You're a Blade now. You'll have a much finer weapon than that," Jauffre said, ushering her over to a display case and removing a slim blade. "This is an Akaviri Katana. Some of the finest craftsmanship you will ever see. You may chose from this, or the slightly more difficult to wield Akaviri-Dai Katana."

Se frowned, looking them both over. More difficult to wield? Definitely her style. She picked up the Akaviri-Dai Katana, studying the craftsmanship before strapping the sheath to her back. Jauffre looked at her expectantly.

"You're not going to at least try it out before you leave?" he asked.

She opened her mouth to speak, but Martin beat her to it.

"Battle is the best place for that. You can never know a weapon's true potential, or your own, until you test them in the heat of battle, where there are no restrictions," he replied automatically. The heir looked to both of them. "Am I correct?"

"Actually...yes you are, Martin. I should have seen it myself. Perhaps I'm getting a bit older than I thought," Jauffre admitted.

"Psh. Don't worry Old Man. Everyone has their moments. Now, unless we have more to discuss, I should go meet up with Baurus, yes?" Freya said with a smile, turning and walking towards the door.

Jauffre looked mortified at being called "Old Man" and stared at her. Martin hesitated a moment before jogging to catch her before she left. She blinked, looking at him in a curious manner.

"Listen. Mehrunes Dagon...is no laughing matter. You're skilled, it's true, but don't take this lightly. Do not get cocky. Do not assume you have the upper hand. And do not let your guard down," he warned her.

"I can take care of myself. And others of need be. We'll get that Amulet back...I promise," she assured him, before looking to Skoll, who had joined her at the door. "Not this time, boy. I want you to stay here and watch Martin, alright?"

The Great White Wolf made a slightly disgruntled noise, but made no move to protest. Martin looked confused.

"Why ask him that?" he wondered.

"Well, so far I've been charged with protecting you. That's pretty much all I've been doing since I got out of that prison. The Blades are capable warriors, that I know. But I would feel more comfortable if old Skoll here was keeping an eye on you all the same," she said, scratching Skoll's ears affectionately.

"You...are a strange one," Martin sighed.

"Strange, yes, but I'm the strange one who's watching your ass," Freya said with a smirk, walking out of the Great Hall.

He watched her mount Sleipnir, giving a jovial wave as she headed out of Cloud Ruler Temple, galloping down the mountainside. Martin sighed, folding his arms over his chest and watching as a light snow began to fall. Cloud Ruler Temple was a sight to behold. And yet he couldn't feel completely comfortable here. Perhaps it was the fact that he still was not comfortable with the fact that he was heir to the throne?

He felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Martin, it will take time for you to adjust," Jauffre said, as though reading his mind. "However, to help with that, I have a few books about you father that you might be interested in reading. Including his journal. That is, if you want to."

"I would appreciate that very much," Martin replied, looking somewhat relieved.

He followed Jauffre into another room, hoping perhaps to learn more about his father...and himself.

+------------------------------/O/B/L/I/V/I/O/N/------------------------------+

Freya heaved a sigh. After some travelling, she'd finally arrived in the Imperial City, not before being attacked by plenty of bandits and wild animals along the way. Currently, she was looking around Luther Broad's Boarding House for Baurus. Blinking, she finally managed to pick him out, and walked over. He was no longer wearing his Imperial Legion armor, which is why he'd been so difficult to spot. She took a seat next to him and ordered herself a large tankard of the house brew. He glanced sidelong at her.

"Oh, it's you again. You're the one they sent then?" he said quietly.

"You bet," Freya said in equally low tones, knocking back her tankard while Baurus stared wistfully into his own. "Jauffre doesn't want you to blame yourself. What happened was unavoidable."

"You're right, of course. We need to get to work. I think I'm beginning to see what the Emperor saw in you," Baurus said with a slight smile. "Now, listen up. I've been doing some information gathering for the past few days, however...I'm being followed. Before we can proceed any further, we nee to get rid of this guy. I'm going to go into the basement. I want you to wait here and see if anyone follows me. If they do, follow them. But don't let yourself be seen. Alright?"

"Understood," she replied, taking her tankard and standing. "So, are we on for that party for Hrothgar next week?"

"You bet," Baurus said heartily. "I'll make sure to bring the booze."

"You'd better, remember, you still owe me three crates of the good stuff from that bash we had last year," Freya responded, swaying slightly for good measure.

"That was one crazy bash. I'll be seein' ya," Baurus said, paying for his drink and tottering towards the basement.

Freya continued to drain her tankard, ordering another one and draining it as well before she saw a man slide toward the basement door. Waiting a moment, she payed and thanked the bartender before slipping towards the basement as well and entering. It was dimly lit and smelled of fermenting ale and wine. Creeping silently down the stairs, she spotted the man sneaking up on what he assumed was a tipsy Baurus. Strutting out, she walked up behind him, Baurus turning at the same time. The man jumped.

"How could you have possibly known I was following you?" he spat.

"Pfft. No self respecting Nord gets drunk that easily. It was all a scam...and you fell for it," Freya said.

"Now. Tell us what you know about the Mythic Dawn and their connection to Mehrunes Dagon," Baurus said promptly.

"Never! For Lord Dagon!" the man shouted.

A yellow mist surrounded him and he transformed, enshrouded in daedric armor. Baurus and Freya attacked as one, blades singing as they cut through the air. The man was no match for their combined strength and fell in a matter of moments after a well placed sword thrust to the neck. The two Blades sheathed their weapons, looking down at the man, whose daedric armor had disappeared, leaving him in one of the now familiar red robes. Freya bent down to search the body, finding a book on him. She flipped through it, Baurus looking over her shoulder, frowning.

"Hmm. I probably wouldn't be able to make much sense of that, but I know someone who can. Tar-Meena of the Arcane University specializes in these kinds of things, you should take it to her," Baurus said. "In the meanwhile, I'll continue to track other Mythic Dawn agents down."

"Alright. I'll see what this Tar-Meena has to say about this book," Freya said, tucking it inside her cuirass for safekeeping. "Good luck to you, Baurus."

"And you as well, my friend. May Talos guide you," Baurus said, inclining his head.

Freya exited the boarding house and headed toward the infamous Arcane University, her mind buzzing with questions, and with worry. These people were serious, they seemed to be everywhere she turned. The Nord woman could only pray that Jauffre was right in saying that Cloud Ruler Temple was the safest place for Martin. Worry gnawed at her heartstrings as she hurried her way down the cobblestone streets of the shining Imperial City of Cyrodiil.

* * *

Chapter complete! R&R is appreciated, flame if you must. Only know that any flames I receive will be donated to local Boy Scouts so they can toast marshmallows.

Freya: That's it, I'm taking away your crack.

Martin: Actually I think it's these small, colorful things she keeps eating...

M&Ms?

Martin: Is that what they're called? -studies them-

Yes. Chocolate. Good. Read. Review. Also good. Huzzah!


	5. Scroll V: Innocent Blood

Chapter five should be entitled: In Which Freya is Emo, but that didn't flow as smoothly as other things did. Sorry folks.

Freya: I'm not emo! It was a distressing chapter! -emo tear-

Martin: There, there...have some Ns&Ms.

Martin, it's...M&Ms. -stare-

Martin: ...whatever.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: Cat man has let me down again. Why? Why do I keep relyin' on him? I don't own the Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion thanks to his EFFing grooming. D:

* * *

Scroll V: Innocent Blood

Martin at idly among the various books and scrolls Jauffre had given him. He'd learned quite a lot about his father in the past two days, and even a little about himself. His birth mother, the day he was born, the events following his birth...it was all good to know. But having read that, he now felt restless. Freya had been gone for two days, going on three. It was an important matter, so obviously she would be gone for a while, but still he wondered. Would she and Baurus be alright? Would they be able to handle this?

Something warm and wet brushing across his hand startled him. Skoll looked up at him, resting his large furry head on Martin's lap. He laughed slightly.

"I know, I know," he said. "You're worried too."

Caroline and Jena peered around the corner of the doorway to the West Wing, watching the future heir pet Skoll. The studied him carefully, before looking at each other, nodding once and ducking into the West Wing. Caroline put her hand on her hips, letting loose a slight sigh.

"When do you suppose Sister Freya will return?" she asked.

"Who knows?" replied Jena, biting into an apple, as it was their lunch break. "It's supposed to be a dangerous assignment after all. I mean...she might not even come back."

"Preposterous! Master Jauffre has the utmost confidence in her," Caroline said.

"That is true," Jena agreed. "Though, I do wonder...are we aiming for the wrong goal here?"

"Why do you say that? Would you rather we aim towards getting you and the Captain together?" Caroline asked.

Jena's face flushed as she looked over to Captain Steffan, who was instructing Roran and Toran on the further uses of a blade, when a bow and arrows would not be handy. She glared at Caroline huffily.

"That's not what I meant," she grumbled. "I meant, should we be spending more time watching Martin for the purpose of protecting him rather than setting him up with Sister Freya?"

"We've only been trying to set them up in our free time," Caroline said honestly.

"I suppose you're right..." Jena agreed with a sigh.

+------------------------------/O/B/L/I/V/I/O/N/------------------------------+

Freyr looked into the glowing pool of water before him. Images rippled across the surface of the water, reflecting in his dull, emotionless eyes. Images of Freya leaving their fight to protect Martin. Images of Freya laughing with people he didn't know. Images of Freya happy. Images of Freya...without him. A hand slithered up to his shoulder.

"You see my boy? She's deserted you. She could care less about you right now. It's the young Septim heir she's interested in," drawled the voice of Mankar Camoran. "She cares not about you."

Freyr said nothing, eyes fixated on the images before him.

"It is good that I found you. Took you in. You'll have a better life serving under me," Camoran continued, examining the amulet around the Nord's neck. It was an enchanted amulet, one that had been very difficult to obtain. With it, the Nord was fully under his control. "But I bet you'd like to seek revenge, wouldn't you? As you should. Betrayal. It stings more than a swarm of bees, pierces sharper than the sharpest dagger. You just need a target for that rage, don't you? Look here."

Camoran waved his hand over the pool, sending the images of the Nord's sister rippling away from his sight, only to be replaced by an image of Martin, pouring over a stack of books in the Great Hall of Cloud Ruler Temple.

"You want to kill this man. He is the reason your sister has betrayed you. You want to kill Martin Septim," Camoran cooed.

"Martin...Septim..." Freyr said, his voice a dull monotone.

"Good. I'll leave you here to...reflect on the matter further," Camoran said, turning on his heel and strolling out, an odd smirk upon his lips.

Freyr stared at the image of Martin, a faint flicker of emotion passing through the deep pools of nothingness that were his eyes. He raised his fist before bringing it crashing down into the pool. His fist collided with the rock bottom, cutting his knuckles. His blood mingled with water, and he remained that way for a while longer.

+------------------------------/O/B/L/I/V/I/O/N/------------------------------+

Freya stared abysmally at the rotting wooden door that would lead her to the Lake Arrius Caverns, the supposed meeting place of the Mythic Dawn. She knew her mission. Recover the Mysterium Xarxes from Mankar Camoran and return it to Martin. Coming this far had been difficult...and painful. The loss of Baurus bit at her conscience sharply. He'd been a good man, loyal to the end...just one more person she couldn't protect. She had to respect his memory by continuing with this mission. He would have done the same.

Shaking her head, she looked to where she'd left Sleipnir under a grove of trees where he could easily reach the lake to drink. The trees would provide shelter if it began to rain. She just hoped he wouldn't be left out here too long. Bracing herself, she entered the caverns, blinded for a moment as the darkness engulfed her. She waited a moment to let her eyes adjust and proceeded. After a little bit of walking, she saw torchlight ahead and a red robed man standing at the door. She approached him. He regarded her carefully.

"Greetings," he said formally. "Dawn is breaking."

"Greet the new day," she responded, equally as formal.

"Welcome sister," the man said with a strange smile.

Apprehension rising within her, she walked through the door the man had opened. She didn't get far before she was greeted by yet another Mythic Dawn Agent and yet another door. She regarded him carefully as he approached her.

"Greetings. My name is Harrow and I am the Warden of the Shrine. You have come far and passed all our tests so far. Well done," he praised her. "However, before we can fully accept you as an initiate, you must hand over all your worldly possessions and take this robe as a symbol of your devotion."

All her worldly possessions? She did not like the idea of being without a weapon. She was only mildly skilled at hand-to-hand and her spell casting definitely needed some work. Did she really want to do this? No. But she had to. If she didn't...well, she didn't even want to begin to think of the consequences.

"Alright then," Freya agreed, handing over what was on her.

Taking the robe from Harrow, she turned her back to him and removed her armor. After placing the robe on, she handed over her armor as well, none too pleased about it.

"Very good. Welcome initiate. You are very fortunate, for Master Camoran is giving a speech at this moment. You should hurry before you miss any of it," Harrow instructed her.

Mankar Camoran was here?! She could just get the Amulet and save them a lot of time and effort. Nodding swiftly, she ventured down into the cavern with him. In a ceremonial chamber, there stood a platform with a statue of who she could only assume was Mehrunes Dagon. There were many other people gathered there...that would make retrieving the Amulet a problem. Taking her place in the crowd, she listened to Camoran's speech.

What a load of bull! It was almost laughable, the brainwash that he preached. She thought, for a moment, that he smirked at her...but she supposed it was just the poor lighting.

"I go now to Paradise," Camoran concluded, disappearing a burst of light and smoke.

Damn! That had been her chance and she'd blown it!

"We have a new initiate here who wishes to join our ranks," Harrow piped up.

"Really? Step forward, initiate," the woman upon the dais, Camoran's daughter, commanded.

"Y-Yes, of course," Freya said, hurrying up.

"In order to be accepted as a true worshipper of Lord Dagon, you must spill the Red-Drink upon his alter. Do you consent?" the woman asked, holding out a dagger.

"I do," Freya said, taking the dagger.

She suspected it would be something like she'd seen in other cults. Slice your palm open, let a little of you blood fall, and that was it. The woman however, turned and gestured toward the statue. Underneath it was a bench, and upon it, an Argonian was chained down. She felt a lump rise in her throat. They wanted sacrifice.

"Why do you hesitate, initiate?" the woman asked, looking suspicious.

"Oh, no reason. I was just...well to be honest, I haven't done one of these in quite some time. I guess you just caught me off guard," Freya lied.

The woman chuckled. "It is no problem at all. I suppose we all get a little rusty. Do continue initiate."

She nodded jerkily and walked toward the Argonian. What was she going to do? She could see helplessness reflecting in the Argonian's eyes. She couldn't kill this man, he had done nothing to deserve this. Yet, if she refused, she would be attacked as a spy and most likely killed. If she was killed, she could not deliver the Mysterium Xarxes to Martin. The Dragonfires would remain unlit and Tamriel would fall to Oblivion. But if she killed this man...

She raised the dagger, torchlight reflecting off of it.

_Please forgive me. You know not of what your sacrifice shall do for others, and so I pray that you'll forgive me for my cowardice._

The dagger came down, ending the Argonian's life. His blood flowed from the bench and onto the dais. It stained the dagger and her hands. She vaguely wondered if the Mythic Dawn wore red robes to cover all the blood they were bathed in. She felt a hand patting her on the shoulder. It was Harrow. Most of the others had left.

"Excellent work. I would like to formally welcome you to the Mythic Dawn, sister," he said cheerily before turning and beginning to walk away.

She watched him for a moment before stepping forward. He didn't even have time to wonder what had hit him before he lay dead on the dais also. Searching his person, she found the key to the trunk where her things were being held. Striding over to the living quarters, she unlocked the trunk and removed her belongings, changing back into her armor. By the time she reached the entrance to the cavern, a small group had gathered around Harrow's body.

"Who did this?" one of them questioned.

"Guess who, you sons of bitches?" she growled, an odd sneer playing on her features.

"You! Stop right there, you'll go no further!" one of them called out.

"Sorry, but I'm disinclined to acquiesce to your request," she said, charging them. Caught off guard, they stared in shock as she snatched the Mysterium Xarxes and stowed it in her cuirass. She paused momentarily on the alter, smirking at their blank expressions. "It means "No."

She would realize later on that perhaps it wasn't best to have taunted them as she did, as they came at her full force. She was used to fighting large groups of people, but they were ore powerful than she'd anticipated. Parrying a strike from one, she felt a spell whoosh straight past her left ear, sending the statue of Mehrunes Dagon tumbling. This seemed to only outrage them more as they attacked even more ferociously.

Parry, dodge, block...parry, dodge, block...it was getting her nothing except wounded. One of them was using armor piercing arrows. She could feel one in her back, but dared not pause to inspect it. That would mean death. Faced with odds she knew she couldn't overcome, Freya Eivarthr did something she had never done in her life:

She ran.

Feeling the heat of another spell as it just barely missed her, she ran for all she was worth towards the exit. Breathing heavily, she ran her katana straight through the guard, who had just noticed all the commotion. Her path was clear now. Breaking out of the cavern, she quickly hopped astride Sleipnir and rode off at a breakneck pace, hoping none of them had followed.

After riding for some time, she chanced a look back and saw that, no, they hadn't followed. She was a long way away from there now. But despite that rather harrowing ordeal, she knew she still had to get this book to Martin. Regaining control of her breathing, she started out again.

+------------------------------/O/B/L/I/V/I/O/N/------------------------------+

Marting drummed his fingers idly against the table. Five days now. He had nothing to do here, nothing to help out with. He felt useless. At least when he was in Kvatch he'd been of some help. Or even when he'd been travelling with Freya and Jauffre. Now he was just left here to wait. It frustrated him. That frustration eased some, however, when RoTo came bursting into the Great Hall. Normally, their bursting into the Great Hall would frustrate him more, but not with the news they were bringing.

"Sister Freya's back!" the eighteen-year-old Wood Elf twins chorused.

He rose quickly from his seat, to go out and greet her, but she was already making her way into the hall, her head hanging low. Captain Steffan walked in behind her, eyeing the arrow protruding from her back warily. She approached Martin and heaved a great sigh before speaking.

"Mission accomplished," she said softly.

"So you have the Amulet, then?" Jauffre asked, standing beside Martin.

"I...no. I'm sorry," she admitted. "Mankar Camoran, the man who had it, disappeared before I could retrieve it."

"I see..." Jauffre said with a sigh, looking crestfallen.

"But I've brought something else. Something...I've been told will help us find him," she said.

She looked slightly weary, eyes looking worn and troubled as she reached into her cuirass. She produced the Mysterium Xarxes for them to see. As soon as Martin got a good look at the title, he immediately snatched it away from her, much to her surprise.

"This is a very dangerous book! People have died...just by touching it you could have...By the Nine, what were you thinking?!" he fumed, slamming the book on the table. "Never touch it again, do you understand?!"

The entire room was silent. Freya stared back at Martin, confusion evident in her lapis-lazuli orbs. She hung her head and walked off towards the living quarters without so much as a word. Everyone in the room shifted in slight discomfort, watching Martin. He deflated slightly.

"I apologize for my behavior," he said shortly, taking a seat and resting his head in his hand.

The Blades took this as a sign to leave him be and did so, Jena going off to see of she could help Freya with any injuries she might have sustained. Only Jauffre remained, staring down at the future Emperor with a mixture of pity and exasperation. The young man was stressed, that was clearly evident. He feared what might lay ahead in the coming days could prove to be too much.

"Martin, I realize you would like to be alone. However, should you need anything, I shall be in my quarters," Jauffre said before taking his leave as well.

Martin did not reply; he only sat there in the same position he had been in. He remained that way for a few hours, lost in thought. After this, he rose and headed toward the living quarters of the Blades. Those who were not on duty were asleep by now, he noticed, as he quietly opened the door. Walking silently across the room, he found Freya at the last bedroll. He leaned over to inspect her and saw that she, too, was fast asleep. He thought of waking her, but she looked so peaceful he dared not. She cold probably use the rest anyway...

"Is there something you need, Martin?" she asked quietly.

He nearly face-faulted at her sudden vocalization. Straightening up, he sat next to the bedroll, feeling embarrassment creeping on on him once again. This was stupid.

"I just...wanted to apologize. You couldn't have possibly known about that book and I...over reacted," he admitted quietly.

Freya sat up and reached for the candle she kept near the bedroll and lit it with a gentle fire spell. The flame was not bright enough to wake the others, but provided enough light so that they could see each other. She looked even more worn out than before, and he mentally kicked himself for having woken her.

"It's alright. I know you're under a lot of stress," she said in hushed tones.

"No, it was wrong. And I promise it won't happen again," he assured her.

"Alright, it's a deal," she replied with a slight smile.

Something about her smile bothered him. It wasn't her usual cocky, gods-be-damned smile. It seemed more...remorseful. He frowned.

"So, how is your wound?" he asked, indicating where the arrow in her back had once been.

"It's fine. Just a minor cut. They had armor piercing arrows, you see," she explained.

"I see. Then...something else is bothering you," he said half-questioningly.

She fell silent and stared at her folded hands as the rested in her lap. She sat quietly for a while, not answering him. Just as he was about to ask if she was alright, she spoke, barely above a whisper.

"May I ask you something?"

"Of course," he replied, wondering what it was she wanted.

"If you had a choice...to kill one person, someone who was an innocent and did not deserve death, to save the world, or save that person and die yourself, possibly the world along with you...which would be the right one to choose?"

He frowned, contemplating the question.

"I'm not sure. Either way, a wrong has been committed," he said, taking note of her reaction. "...do you want to tell me what happened?"

She looked up at him through weary, teary eyes.

"Martin...I've done something terrible. I've taken what is not mine to take," she said, sounding on the verge of tears. "I have killed people before, as a warrior, that is my nature...but never have I killed anyone who was an innocent. He was just laying there, I know he was begging me to help him. But I knew that if I did, my true intentions would be revealed. I knew I needed to recover that book. And if I had released him they would have discovered me. Baurus also fell due to my cowardice. I did as he said and waited in the shadows, when I knew I should have been the one to go. Two people who should be alive are dead now because I did not act in the way I should have. I am a coward. It's all my fault, I...I..."

She never finished the sentence. Silent tears cascaded down her pale cheeks. Biting her bottom lip, she fisted her hands in her bedsheets until her knuckles turned white. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. She'd promised herself that she'd be strong enough for herself and anyone else she needed to. She'd let two people down. Uriel Septim had said she was chosen by the gods; a statement that Jauffre, Martin and many others backed up. But now she had to wonder...had the gods chosen wrong?

"You're not at fault here. You know, you can't save everyone, much as you may want to. Sometimes...you must make a choice you are not necessarily pleased or agree with for the greater good. I would say that...faced with the situation you were in, you chose the lesser of two evils. That doesn't mean your decision was the right one, but it was the one we needed. Based on your reaction to this I must wonder if you're willing, or able, to continue," Martin said, candlelight reflecting softly upon his features.

"No, I can still continue," she said firmly, wiping away any remaining tears. "I have to in order to repent for spilling innocent blood. If I back down now, they win. And if they win...Tamriel falls to Oblivion."

"Good. I was hoping you wouldn't leave," Martin replied with a short smile. "You're a valuable ally and a good friend. It would be a shame to lose you."

She nodded slowly, barely suppressing a yawn. He chuckled.

"Go back to sleep. You need some rest. I'm going to see if I can get started on the book," Martin said, rising slightly and moving towards the door.

Freya caught him by the hem of his priest's robe, causing him to look back. She looked up at him in a worried manner and he frowned slightly. As though just noticing what she'd done, she let go, letting her hands rest in her lap once more. She looked down at them briefly before looking back up to him, her features appearing sterner.

"That man...Mankar Camoran...I got a strange feeling when I saw him. Like a rock had been dropped in my stomach and a chill sent up my spine," she said lowly. "If that is his book, and it is as dangerous as you said...then be careful. Take any precaution you know of and tell me if there's any way I can help. I don't know what the Mysterium Xarxes contains, or what it can do...but it does not bode well on my mind. We cannot relight the Dragonfires. That task falls to you, Martin. Take care of yourself."

He nodded once at her words, digesting them. "I understand. Now go back to sleep, alright?"

He could feel her eyes on him as he left the room and shut the door quietly behind him. Waiting by the door until he saw the candlelight extinguished, he moved back towards the Great Hall. Skoll was waiting there for him, laying before the great fireplace. He looked up as Martin approached, and for a moment he could have sworn the great wolf was _smirking_ at him. But no, it must be a trick of the light. Merely shadow and light conflicting.

+------------------------------/O/B/L/I/V/I/O/N/------------------------------+

On the hillside between Bruma and Cloud Ruler Temple, a young auburn haired man stood vigilantly, a large white wolf at his side. His lapis-lazuli eyes remained focused on where he knew Cloud Ruler Temple to be. Where he knew his enemy to be. His fists clenched ever so slightly, and again that shard of emotion passed over his dull voids of eyes. The great wolf knew the emotion: it was anger and hate, snowballed into one emotion.

"Martin Septim..." the man repeated to himself for the hundredth time since he'd arrived there.

Soon he would have his revenge. Soon he would return to the Master and be praised for his efforts. Soon he would have his sister back. Soon he would have the Septim heir's head. Soon. Soon. Soon. All things in good time, and time he had. And so he waited, hatred burning inside him otter than any flames Oblivion could offer.

* * *

Alright kids, who spotted the Pirates of the Caribbean reference?

Freya: Who cares?

Martin: Pirates?

Erm...I'll leave that up to you reviewers then. Yarr!


	6. Scroll VI: Two Halves

Uwah, sorry for the extremely long delay! I've been ill...again. This time it's Lyme Disease (lucky me). So, yeah...I've had a lot on my plate the last few months between school, home and being sick. So, again, my deepest and sincerest apologies. I'm not worthy of your reviews! -grovels-

Anyway...I promise the intervals between chapters will be shorter than my last. The next chapter will be a real nail-biter, I promise. This one (sorry again, folks!) will leave you on a bit of a cliffie!

* * *

Scroll VI: Two Halves

_She blinked. Here again? Oh. But wait...where were the Dragon and the other beast? Well, that other beast must have been Mehrunes Dagon. She looked around. Martin was a few feet away from her and she smiled, relieved, and walked over to him. She felt strange, as though the space surrounding them had...warped. Martin was saying something now, but she couldn't hear him. He looked...wistful though. She opened her mouth to speak, when suddenly the entire room shook. Whipping around, she saw that half the room had been demolished. There stood Mehrunes Dagon, looking about ready to smite anything nearby. Panic rose inside her throat. She had to protect Martin! But when she turned around..._

+------------------------------/O/B/L/I/V/I/O/N/------------------------------+

Freya slipped into her Blades armor once more. She'd had a great night's sleep, one that she needed greatly, but something was bothering her. She kne she'd dreamt something else, but this time she barely remembered any of it. It was far too hazy. She had been told by her great-grandmother that dreams were important and should never be ignored, so it bothered her that she couldn't remember this one as well as she would have liked.

"Goodmorning, sister!" RoTo chorused, leaning through the doorframe, faces aglow with their usual smiles.

"Goodmorning you two," she said with a smile, momentarily forgetting her troubles.

"Wanna play a game?" the asked, a mischievous glint in their eyes.

"Oh, I don't think I have time to play a game," she admitted, standing.

"It's a guessing game. Just guess which one of us is Roran and which is Toran," they chirped.

"That's it? Oh, well then..." Freya said, looking thoughtful. She pointed first to the left and then to the right. "On the left is Roran and on the right is Toran."

The two looked at each other, smiles gone. She wondered if perhaps she had said the wrong thing. But two seconds later the smiles were back and they launched themselves at her, enveloping her in a hug. She squirmed uncomfortably.

"Sister Freya is--"

"--the only one who guessed right!"

"Really?" Freya asked.

"Yup. No one ever knows how to tell us apart. So it makes RoTo very happy that Sister Freya can," Roran said, looking up at her with a grin.

"Maybe because you have a twin too," Toran added.

She thought on this. "Yes. I suppose so."

Freya walked into the Great Hall a few minutes later, looking confused. Making a beeline for Martin, she frowned. He didn't even notice when she approached, he was so engrossed in the Mysterium Xarxes. This did not sit well with her. Placing her hands on her hips, she tapped her foot on the floor and cleared her throat loudly. Marting finally looked up, earning a look from the Nord woman. He studied her posture.

"You know, you look like a woman when you stand like that," he said with a smile.

She flustered at this, left eye twitching. Martin nearly dropped the book, realizing how she'd interpreted it. He placed the book down, waving his hands about.

"No, no! That's not what I--"

"Oh, so you think I'm not womanly, do you?" she growled.

"It's not that, it's just normally you're more--"

"More what?"

"I don't know! Look, you're the one running around swinging that sword about!" he protested weakly.

"Sexist bastard," she said shortly.

"I am _not _sexist," he said, looking equally as flustered now.

Skoll observed them with some amusement. He'd always found humans to be amusing, but these two were beyond comical. It was better than watching those two strange Wood Elf twins annoy the rest of the Blades with their hi-jinks. Well...almost. Jauffre chose to walk in at this moment, sighing when he saw them quarreling. Walking over, he stood between them, and the two stopped immediately, hanging their heads like two children about to be scolded by their father.

"Now what is the problem here?" he asked.

"He said I wasn't womanly," Freya said, pointing an accusing finger at Martin.

"Well..." Jauffre said. He mumbled something incoherent, waving his hands about in important looking gestures before clearing his throat loudly, leaving both the priest and the warrior highly confused. "Listen, I've got something I'd like you to take care of."

Freya stared flatly at him. Oh, so that was his game! Dodge the subject. The crafty old man...She sighed, running a hand through her hair before straightening up slightly.

"Alright. What is it you'd like me to take care of?" she asked.

"We've been having trouble with some spies in Bruma. I'm not allowing any of the blades to leave the Temple, so you'll have to be the one to handle the situation," Jauffre explained.

"No problem. A couple of spies should be a piece of cake," Freya said almost airily, waving a hand dismissively.

"That kind of attitude will get you into trouble someday. Remember that," Jauffre said seriously. "See the Captain Steffan here for more details and then meet up with Captain Burd in Bruma, understood?"

"Yes, sir," Frea said, watching as Jauffre left the room. She slumped onto the bench next to Martin, leaning on one elbow. "Che...crazy old man. They're just a couple of spies. I've handled worse."

"He's right, though," Martin intoned, beside her.

Her lapis-lazuli obs lazily travelled to the side to watch him. He smiled lightly, the Mysterium Xarxes resting in his lap. She didn't like that book. Martin wasn't weak, by any means, but she didn't like the idea of him handling a book he deemed to dangerous for her.

"Oh really?" she snorted, playfully.

"Yes, really," he pushed. "You may be highly capable, or more capable than most of the people here, but you're still human. Humans make mistakes and you're no exception. Mistakes in everyday life may be one thing, but you don't have the luxury of taking things lightly. Neither do I. Mistakes are...catastrophic."

She tilted her head to the side, giving him a questioning look before rising and stretching, a smile on her face. She walked behind him.

"Yes, I can see where you're right. But even though you or Master Jauffre might think I'm cocky or over confident, that's just how I function. If I've convinced myself that I am the best and that I can do it, then it's done," Freya said with a shrug.

"I see. Well...at least be careful then," he said with a slight laugh.

"Oh, of course. My goofing up puts you in danger, remember?" she said as she began to walk towards the doors.

"Freya? One last thing...are you ever going to tell me what you were hoping I'd say? When we spoke the other night?" Martin asked.

She paused, turning back and tapping her chin thoughtfully before walking back.

"Well, let me see...I asked you if you were Martin the Priest or Martin the Emperor. You answered that you were both and I said that wasn't the answer that I was hoping for. And, you want to know what I was thinking?" she asked with a grin.

"Well, yes. Was that not a sufficient answer?" Martin asked.

"No, it was sufficient. But to be honest..."

He was surprised when she leaned close, brushing his hair away to whisper in his ear. His face flushed as she spoke and then she pulled away again, walking towards the doors. The Nord opened the doors and looked back, winking.

"How's that for an answer?" Freya asked, shutting the doors behind her.

He said nothing, instead attempting to somehow bury himself in his books as she left. Skoll rolled on his back before the roaring fire, kicking his legs, making strange little yipping noises. How amusing they were, his master and the priest!

+------------------------------/O/B/L/I/V/I/O/N/------------------------------+

"Cap'n! Cap'n Steffan!" Freya hollered, looking around.

Now where could he be? She walked around and eventually found him in the stable, watching the horses. Walking up behind him, she yelled.

"Hey, Cap'n!"

He flailed, turning around to meet her, pinching the bridge of his nose in slight frustration.

"Oh, it's you, Sister. Not many people can sneak up on me like that," Steffan admitted.

"Maybe I'm just good at sneaking up on people? Or perhaps I have a dirty past you don't know about where I was a blood thirsty murderer who silently crept in on my prey," Freya said with a grin.

The Captain stared. To say such a strange thing so lightly...a strange woman. Well, strange or not, she had work to do. Crossing his arms in front of his chest, he began.

"Well, Master Jauffre has obviously told you about our little spy problem," Steffan began.

"Yes, he did," she replied.

"Well, we don't think it's much but it still needs to be checked on. The usually gather around dusk near the old stone tablet on the hill. You can see it from here," Steffan said, leading her out and to the wall, pointing across the landscape.

"Ah, yes, I see it. They'd have a pretty good view of Cloud Ruler Temple from there, wouldn't they?" Freya asked.

"Yes, which is why we're concerned. We think that if they are not directly with the Mythic Dawn, they must at least be affiliated with them," Steffan continued. "Master Jauffre is only allowing you out of here at this time. See Captain Burd in Bruma, as he should be able to tell you a bit more about these spies in detail. Oh, and one last thing, Sister...make sure to give them a real beating for the rest of us, eh? We're dying to fight something..."

"No problem, Cap'n. I'll make sure to snuff out this problem post haste," Freya said merrily, retrieving Sleipnir.

Taking him by the reins, she guided the paint horse down the steps of Cloud Ruler Temple, making her way onto the winding mountain road. It was best not to push the horse, considering Bruma was so close, but he could still use a good walk. The Nord woman looked up as they made their way downward. A light snow had begun to fall, bringing a smile to her face. She liked these types of snowfall...soft, drifting slowly down to earth before covering it in a puffy white blanket. As she drew closer to Bruma, she paused slightly.

"Should I go see Captain Burd?" Freya asked Sleipnir.

The horse gave his reins a shake, pawing the ground lightly. The Nord grinned and steered him toward a small crop of bushes and trees, setting him next to the largest tree. The foliage, although sparse, would be able to cover them both until dusk.

"I can handle this myself," Freya said quietly, crouching in the snow.

She waited, diligently, for what seemed like hours. Freya wasn't always the most patient of people, but with the promise of battle, she found she could wait ages. If it meant she would experience the thrill of a fight, she was willing to wait any amount of time. When dusk had finally drawn close, she noticed two shapes drawing towards the stone tablet. After watching them a moment longer, she drew herself up and started towards them, slowly at first, so as not to be noticed. However, as she closed in she began to run up the small hill, drawing the Dai-Katana as she did so.

Whether it was the sound of her boots crunching in the snow, or the singing of her blade as she drew it, or even merely a sixth sense for danger, the two on the hill noticed her. In a puff of yellowish smoke and light, the two were clothed in Daedric Armor. Well, if she hadn't been convinced the two were spies before, she was now. One of them got to her first and was halfway through yelling something about not fearing death--when she found herself skewered on the Nord's blade.

Ripping it out fiercely, she headed for the other. The two clashed in a flurry of sparks. Oh, now this one was a little bit better! Sadly, not good enough. The Nord duck, swinging one of her legs toward the ankle of the second spy. Said spy noticed a moment too late and was sent toppling. Not missing a beat, Freya stuck her blade into the chest of the fallen spy, waiting until her writhing stopped before pulling it out. Checking that both were dead, she checked the bodies as well. They both had strange looking keys...one of them was apparently named "Jearl", according to a personal possession she found. Shrugging and taking the keys, the Nord wiped the blood off her person and her blade using the snow and continued towards Bruma.

+------------------------------/O/B/L/I/V/I/O/N/------------------------------+

Martin shook his head, plowing forward in his deciphering of the Mysterium Xarxes. It was a slow pace, but he was moving forward. He only hoped that he wasn't _too _slow...he couldn't very well take forever with this. Their time was precious. He felt a bit guilty, knowing this was all he was doing. Freya seemed to be doing the majority of the grunt work, but oddly enough, it didn't seem to bother her too much. Histhoughts were interrupted when he heard shouts and clanging from outside. Frowning, he rose slightly, closing the Mysterium Xarxes.

As he began to walk away from the table, Jauffre came running into the Great Hall, RoTo nipping at his heels. Before he could even begin to ask what all the commotion was, the twins had grabbed him by both arms. He looked to the Grand Master, bewildered.

"There's no time to explain, Martin. Roran and Toran are taking you someplace safe for the moment," Jauffre said hurriedly.

"Come with us, Your Highness!" the twins chorused, not giving him much choice as they dragged him away.

Thankful he still had the Mysterium Xarxes, Martin was being lead away by the twins when he saw the Great Hall's wide double doors burst open. In the doorway stood someone who looked remarkably similar to Freya, holding one of the Blades--Roliand?--up with one arm. He threw Roliand, sending him crashing into one of the tables. His emotionless blue gaze travelled to Martin, who was quickly pulled around a corner before he could see any more.

The twins took him through a series of winding tunnels to a strange room he'd never seen before. Skoll sat at his side as the twins guarded the door, ever vigilant. He knew who it was that had attacked. And he knew he'd not be easy to defeat. After all, surely if Freya was that strong, so must her brother be.

+------------------------------/O/B/L/I/V/I/O/N/------------------------------+

Freya dropped through the door in the floor of Jearl's home and found herself in a finished basement. Looking around, she didn't find anything out of the ordinary. However, seeing a scroll on the nearby table, she believed she'd found what she was looking for. Unrolling it, her eyes skimmed across the page, almost laughing out loud when she found a part that mentioned her.

"Well, at least this guy's smart enough to tell them to watch out for me...but they know about Cloud Ruler Temple," she said, biting her lip as she read on. "Wait...three spies? I only saw two. The third...the third is..."

Cursing vehemently, she quickly pulled herself up and dashed out of the house and past the guards, making her way to the stable. Without so much as a word, she hopped over the fence and leaped atop Sleipnir. The horse seemed to sense her urgency, and jumped gracefully over the stable fence, galloping up the winding path. Though she wasn't the one doing the running, the Nord's heart hammered painfully in her chest. She'd let him slip through her fingers! In his state of mind, there was no telling just what he was capable of...or what he might do.

Barely giving Sleipnir the time to stop, she dropped off the horse from the side and ran as fast as her legs could carry her. The wide front doors to the Temple stood wide open, an oddly ominous sign. Dashing up the stairs three steps at a time, she tried not to look at the smear of blood on the grounds as she came crashing through the Great Halls doors. She stood breathless for a moment in the entryway, taking in the scene, before a strangled cry rose in her throat.

"Freyr!!"

* * *

I warned you it was a cliffie! Yeah, I know nothing like this ever happened in the game, but...come on. It's exciting, ne? Ne? Reviews are appreciated!


	7. Scroll VII: Defeat

Wai! It's so good to see some of my old readers back! I have to warn you, though, this chapter contains excessive amounts of emo, and the next few chapters might as well. Yay for sibling rivalry. By the way, Freya, what _did_ you say to Martin?

Freya: Wha--...that's none of your business.

Martin: Right. Kindly, er...go away.

Freya: -sigh- You don't know how to be mean, do you? -slaps SS-

Uwah, meanie! I'm telling Jauffre! -runs off crying-

Martin: ...now what?

Freya: I suppose we proceed with the torture. It's on a timer after all...

* * *

DISCLAIMER: I don't own it! If I did, it wouldn't be so painfully easy to be arrested. I think the guards have some sort of strange power that alerts them that you broke the law...even if you don't know you did. So, yeah... -steals stuff-

* * *

Scroll VII: Defeat 

"Freyr!!"

Her call was deafening. The silence that followed was unbearable. The old Blades Grand Master had his back to the wall, sword crossed with that of the Mythic Dawn Agent, Freyr Eivarthr. The Nord's emotionless blue eyes moved past the surrounded Blades who, although wounded, stood strong. He smiled slightly upon seeing her.

"Sister, how I've longed to see you again," he said calmly, despite the blood spattered on his face, blood that was not his own.

"I longed to see my brother. But...you're not him," Freya said sadly.

"I don't understand. Of course I'm your brother, who else would I be?" Freyr asked.

"My opponent," she replied, drawing her own blade.

Freyr glared now, something that could almost be passed off as anger crossing over his features. "This is because of the Septim Heir, isn't it?"

Freya said nothing, only held her blade at the ready. Freyr quickly turned away from Jauffre, storming towards her, Daedric Broadsword gleaming as murderously as his eyes. Captain Steffan and Jena quickly stepped in front of Freya as Pelagius helped Jauffre to his feet, but Freya merely pushed past them.

"Sorry, Cap'n, this one's mine as well," Freya said.

"Sister Freya, I understand your need for battle, but this is uncalled for," Captain Steffan intoned harshly.

"And I understand yours, however, this is a fight between siblings. Please allow me this one act of indiscretion," Freya said, facing Freyr, who waited patiently. "Just this one."

The Blades Captain's brow furrowed in thought. He recalled his conversation with Martin about this man. Indeed, he did act as though possessed, just as he'd said. As much as he wanted a piece of this fight, he knew deep down, that the other was out of his league. He'd single handedly taken care of all the Blades present save himself, Jena, Pelagius and Jauffre. And even at that, he'd managed to at least wound them all without receiving so much as a scratch. But still...it burned him up. Jaw clenched, he nodded slightly.

"Alright. I wish you luck...we will aid you if you need it," Captain Steffan said gruffly.

"I thought you'd never finish. I've decided, sister, that if you will not come with me voluntarily, I shall have to take you by force," Freyr said, raising his blade.

"Go ahead and try. But whatever the outcome...I'll still find a way to turn you back to the old Freyr," Freya said, ready as well.

"Go ahead and try," he replied mockingly.

Without warning, he charged forward, and their blades met. Freya's eyes widened as they each struggled for the advantage. He was...fast! Far swifter than she remembered. Could he have possibly improved this much in just two months? No, it was impossible. Her blade wavered slightly and she pulled back, Freyr following closely. Their fight spilled into the courtyard, the others quickly following after them. With a roar, Freya charged her brother, only to be parried. He laughed.

"Your movements, sister. They're much slower than I remember," he taunted.

"And you're a bigger windbag than I remember. Are you going to fight me or stand there yapping all day?" Freya asked, charging again.

Jauffre watched them fight, supported by Jena. He frowned as he watched, his old eyes dark with his thoughts. Only a seasoned warrior could see it, but it was there. The two Nordic siblings were both exceptionally swift, however...in his movements, the boy was a fraction of a second quicker than she. To a layman, that might not sound like much at all, something that could be easily overlooked. However, in battle, it gave him a wide margin of advantage over her. He shook his head.

"Grand Master?" Jena said, worriedly.

"To have such a skilled warrior for their cause..." he said, letting his sentence trail off.

"But we have Sister Freya...surely she'll emerge victorious as she's done in the past," Jena said, uncertainty wavering within her voice.

Jauffre's eye caught that of Steffan. The Captain looked gloomy and ill at ease. His eyes shied away from the Grand Master. He had failed in his duties and he knew that, despite her skill...Freya would follow soon after. And if it came to that...he would die before anyone reached Martin.

Freya cried out when her brother's sword sliced through her armor, piercing her side. Drawing back, she grimaced, holding a hand to the wound as it began to bleed. Freyr shook his head, looking remorseful, holding his arms out wide.

"See what you've made me do?" he said. "If you wold just abandon the heir and this foolish crusade, you would never have suffered such an injury."

"Shut up," Freya spat, eyes narrowed (though, whether it was out of pain or anger, no one knew).

"Alright. It appears I'll need to use quite a bit more force to persuade you," Freyr decided aloud, dashing towards her.

Sticking her katana into a crack between the cobblestones, she stood calmly and closed her eyes. Jauffre felt panic rise in his throat. Was she mad?! Steffan made a move towards the pair, but even he knew he would not intervene soon enough. But as they watched, something peculiar happened.

Moments before her brother struck, she jumped, placing one hand on the top of the hilt of her katana and propelled herself upward. Freyr's eyes widened as his strike missed, cutting thin air. But it didn't stop there. While in midair, she used the force of the propulsion to maneuver in a strange sort of roll, kicking out so her boot connected with the back of Freyr's head. The other was sent tumbling as she landed, ripping her katana from the crack and slashing out. Freyr had recovered slightly in that time and quickly moved back, narrowly missing a fatal blow and instead receiving only a mild wound on his abdomen.

Jauffre stared in shock. Just now, that was something...Perhaps he had underestimated her. Freya breathed heavily, looking down at her katana, turning it over in her hand. Due to the excessive force of her little stunt, the magnificent blade had snapped in two. Freyr growled, wiping blood from a split lip.

"I see. Perhaps you've improved as well. I was so confident on winning, I was blinded to that fact...that you would purposely allow yourself to be wounded so as to draw near that crack in the ground," Freyr said, grinning ferally. "You always were a good strategist."

Captain Steffan blinked. Purposely...what? He looked to where she'd been standing before, and it dawned on him. A few days prior, he'd seen her in the early hours of the morning, working away at the crack. He'd asked her what she was doing and she replied only that someday it might come in handy. Could she have possibly known...? No. And yet with that move...

"Perhaps..." Freya replied shortly, trying to catch her breath.

"Yes. A brilliant move. However, in your eyes I see that it was your _only _move," Freyr said with a smirk.

She closed her eyes, bowing her head slightly. A silent admittance.

"As I thought," he said, throwing his arm toward her.

A wave of blue electricity knocked her to the ground. He strode forward, stopping as he came to her. She was on her knees, coughing from the sudden attack, sparks of electricity still lingering on her armor. Unemotional as ever, he drew his leg back and kicked her in her side, hitting her wound. Steffan rushed back, but the Nord woman called out, stopping him.

"Stay back, Captain!"

Freyr ignored all this, kneeling before his sister.

"That wound has slowed you down too much already," he said. "I doubt you can even fight any more."

His answer was a swift punch to the jaw. He was knocked back slightly, but quickly regained his composure, standing and hauling his sister up by her shoulders. She glared at him defiantly. He smiled sweetly.

"You would not come with me, even if I forced you, I believe. You'd rather die," Freyr proclaimed.

"Exactly. So...stop pussy-footing around...and do it," Freya said forcefully.

He seemed to contemplate this for a moment. He saw Steffan drawing closer, blade drawn, from the corner of his eye and grinned, looking towards him.

"I would stay put Captain. That is, unless, you really _would_ like me to kill her," Freyr said.

Reluctantly, the Captain stopped in his tracks, grating his teeth at the indignity of it all. This was preposterous! The man had one of his best fighters at his mercy and he was expected to just _watch_? But what else could he do? He couldn't very well risk her life...

Freyr looked back to his sister.

"You know, I've been watching. And I've noted that your strength in both magic and battle has grown by leaps and bounds ever since you started this pathetic crusade," he said.

"...what's your point?" Freya growled impatiently, not able to do much else as her wounds continued to sap her strength.

"Father always said that, in certain clans, no matter what race...that their power was drawn from their peculiar blue eyes," he continued. "That Septim Heir is from such a clan. And we are from such a clan."

Her eyes widened in fear.

In one swift movement, Freyr had brought his hand up to her face, then jerked it back violently. There was a spray of blood and a strangled cry before the Nord woman twitched almost spasmodically, then went limp. Freyr licked some of the blood that had sprayed on his face, grinning maliciously at his prize.

"If you survive, no doubt you'll seek me out for this, then," he said.

He dropped Freya, and the woman hit the ground, causing her head to loll lifelessly to the side. She lay, unmoving. Freyr looked at her and for a moment, he looked almost on the verge of tears. Jauffre's keen eye notice the amulet around his neck glow faintly, and the Nordic man's eyes returned to their normal, emotionless state. He moved swiftly as Steffan came at him from the side, parrying at returning the strike.

"You bastard!" Steffan roared, lashing out.

Freyr said nothing, only continuing to block the Captain's blows. Upon parrying one particular strike, he knocked the Captain's weapon from his hand, sending it sailing through the air. With nothing to fight with, the Captain could only roll to the side as another strike came at him, piercing his shoulder. He grunted in pain, when the other ripped the sword out. Stubborn as he was, he made to throw a punch at the Nord, but the other was already enveloped in some strange light; it flashed...

...and he was gone.

The Captain stared dumbfounded at the spot where Freyr had once stood. He left? But why? He was certain the man had come to kill Martin...and yet, he was no longer there. He felt a hand on his shoulder and grimaced slightly. The Old Grand Master was beside him, eyes dark with worry. He looked past him to see that Pelagius had returned from Martin's side and was gently scooping up Freya as Jena set out on horseback towards Bruma. Steffan hung his head.

"Grand Master, I..."

But he could not find the words to express what he was feeling.

"It's called defeat, son," Jauffre said with a sigh.

**+----------------------------------------O/B/L/I/V/I/O/N----------------------------------------+**

Had it been hours? Maybe it had been hours, he couldn't tell. It seemed more like days, weeks even. Captain Steffan sat beside him, shirtless, his shoulder bandaged well. The Captain had been adamant about not leaving Martin's side since Freyr had left. The Septim Heir tried to distract himself with the Mysterium Xarxes, but it was no good. His thoughts were too clouded with worry...with guilt.

Skoll sat at his feet, ears drawn back. He made strange whining noises every so often, almost as though he were in pain. Was the wolf's bond with her that great that he felt her pain? He reached down to stroke the animal's brow, which seemed to comfort him slightly. He hadn't left Martin's side once through the whole ordeal, and continued to stay now, despite his master's condition.

When the group of healers exited the room everyone jumped up expectantly, looking to the head of the group, a haggardly old woman with frizzled grey hair. She sighed, taking a seat and placing her staff in her lap.

"I've treated all your injuries as best I know how. You, boy, stop fiddling with my handy-work," the healer rasped, knocking at Steffan's hand with her staff.

The Captain, who'd been picking at his dressing, glared moodily back at her. He didn't appreciate being called "boy" by her. The healer cleared her throat and continued.

"Now, the Nord male--"

"Roliand," Martin interrupted.

"--yes, Roliand. He'll recover, given time and rest. However, he will never be able to wield a sword in his right hand again," the healer proclaimed.

Steffan shook his head. No doubt Roliand would take this news in stride...on the outside at least. He would have to completely retrain himself to fight using only his left hand. It would be painful and difficult for him, he knew that much.

"Now, the Imperial woman--"

"Catherine," Martin interrupted, once again.

"--yes, yes, _Catherine_. Now, she's sustained a pretty serious head injury. She may have some trouble remembering things when she wakes up, which won't be for a few days anyway. I don't foresee any permanent damage, but you never know with these kinds of things," the healer said.

Well, that was slightly good news, as far as bad news went. Steffan frowned. Why did he have a feeling that this old healer had saved the worst for last?

"Now. The Nord woman--"

"Freya," Martin interrupted, yet again.

The healer gave him a flat look before rapping him over the head with her wooden staff. Martin grimaced, rubbing his head and looking to her uncertainly. The woman looked back with the same flat stare.

"Emperor or no, you respect your elders, boy," the healer said.

"...yes, ma'am," Martin replied softly.

Taking note of his tone of voice, the healer sighed and softened slightly as well. This was difficult news, but the news that came after it was far worse...

"The Nord woman, Freya, has sustained multiple injuries. But the real problem lies with the matter of her eye. It was ripped clean from it's socket. Now, the shock from that alone is enough to kill anyone, however, she's got a strong spirit," the healer said.

Steffan let out the breath he'd been holding. Good...he was expecting something catastrophic. Martin frowned, looking at Skoll. The wolf still whimpered with his ears drawn back. He looked to the healer.

"I'm not finished," she said. "Strong spirit is not enough. Had the eye been her only injury, she very well may have lived. But that eye was just too much. She doesn't have much time left."

Steffan leaped up immediately. It aggravated his shoulder and other wounds, but he didn't care. How could that be so? Even if that old hag was a crusty bitch at times, she was still one of the best healers he'd ever met. To say that there wasn't much time left...it was sickening. He looked quickly to Martin, who had remained seated.

"How much time?" the heir asked softly.

"Perhaps a day at best. She's awake now. I suggest you go speak with her," the healer replied.

Wordlessly, he rose and walked to the next room, Skoll trailing behind him slowly. Steffan and Jena made to go after him, but the healer stopped them, holding her staff in the way. Her eyes had a strange gleam to them, one that sent shivers down Jena's spine.

"I thought it best to get our young heir out of the room before I told you. There is...one way I know of to save her," the healer said.

Steffan looked to Jena. Jena looked to Steffan. The two took a seat, waiting to see just what this method was, and why she wouldn't say it in front of Martin.

**+----------------------------------------O/B/L/I/V/I/O/N----------------------------------------+**

Martin walked quietly, so as not to disturb Catherine and Roliand. There was already a seat next to the bed where Freya lay, and he sat down, Skoll next to him. Though the healer had said she was awake, the Nord appeared to be asleep. A strange mess of bandages covered her right eye, or rather, where her right eye used to be. She looked paler than usual, he thought. It wasn't until he placed his hand on hers that she opened her eye, shifting her head slightly, so she could see him. She smiled weakly. He tried to smile back.

He knew it looked pathetic.

"...why so blue...?" she whispered.

"I think...you know," he replied quietly.

"...silly," Freya said with another smile.

"It's not silly. It's...it's the worst thing I can think of," he replied.

"...stop feeling guilty. You do that...too much," she said.

"So do you," he retorted.

She sighed, closing her eye for a few moments. He was almost sure she'd gone back to sleep when she opened her eye again, looking almost sleepy.

"I couldn't...see him," she said quietly.

"What?"

"I was...looking right at him. But...I couldn't...see him," she said. "Why?"

Martin knew she was speaking of her brother. From Captain Steffan's account, he knew the man had acted in a peculiar manner. Peculiar enough for Freya to deny he was her brother.

"Stop talking. Please. You're really in no condition at all to--"

He stopped when he felt her squeeze his hand softly. Her remaining blue eye looked fearful, vulnerable...she looked up at him almost pleadingly. He almost wanted to look away when he saw tears forming in her eye, and prayed that none would form in his own. She said something, but he couldn't hear and so he leaned closer.

"...please don't go..."

"I'm not going anywhere. I'm staying right here," he replied.

Almost to prove his point, he sat on the edge of the bed. Shifting one arm under her, he sat her up slightly and pulled her close so that she rested on him. She closed her left eye, the dull sound of his heartbeat beginning to lull her to sleep. He hugged her slightly, almost sure that if she were to fall asleep now, he would never see her wake up again.

Steffan and Jena stood in the open doorway, watching quietly. They would have to interrupt in a moment. Jena's hand sneaked it's way down toward the Captain's, entwining her fingers with his. Resting her head against his uninjured shoulder, she couldn't help but wonder where things had gone so wrong...

* * *

I love being evil. Kekeke...

Freya: ...you had my brother rip my eye out and now you're killing me?

Martin: -flat stare-

Oh, come on. Dramatic tension anyone? Jeez...obviously nether of you are writers. Anyway...next chapter will be coming up soon as well as a funny little "behind the scenes" type thing to break up the smog of emo I've placed over this story. I guarantee you'll like what comes next. As always, reviews are appreciated and flames keep me toasty!


	8. Scroll VIII: What I've Done

Blah. That's a good word, isn't it? Right now it about describes how I feel.

Freya: Che. You didn't have your eye ripped out...

Martin: Now, now...

You suck, Freya. I'm sorry I ever created you. And just to prove it, I started a new game. Meet my new character, Sorcha.

Sorcha: -cozies up to Martin- Well, hello there.

Martin: Uh...erm...

Freya: Wh-...Back off, bitch!

Kekekeke...I'm so evil. Thanks for the reviews, minna-san! They were very much appreciated.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: I do not own The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion. I am hoping, however, to buy the game for the PC. So that I never have t be away from it. EVER. 8D

* * *

Scroll VIII: What I've Done

"Your Highness?" Steffan said questioningly.

Martin glanced back at the Blades Captain and his subordinate questioningly. The two approached him when he nodded slightly, the old healer following shortly behind him. The Captain looked troubled, or...maybe just agitated. He couldn't tell. The healer brushed past them and sat in the chair nearest Martin, giving him a calculated stare.

"I've been discussing a way to save the girl with these two," the healer began.

"You...what? But you said--"

"However. This is the only way. The _only _way. It's drastic and will have repercussions," the healer explained.

"I'd think her survival is more important," Martin said.

"Understand then, that responsibility for this will rest on your shoulders, should you decide to go along with it," the healer said.

"I understand, but what exactly is it?" Martin asked.

"She'll need to become...a vampire," the healer informed him.

Martin stared. A vampire? True, they did have tremendous healing capabilities. Was she suggesting that this change would be enough to save Freya? If that was the case... He frowned. She wouldn't like it. She most _certainly _would not like it. No doubt she'd be furious with him if he were to agree to it. She was out cold now, and it didn't appear she'd be waking any time soon, so she couldn't very well make the decision. But...

"Well?" the healer prodded.

"I'm...not sure," Martin admitted. "To force her to become a vampire so she might live...it's not really my choice to make."

"She's unable to make the choice herself. I've decided you should be the one to act in her steed, since you seem...close," the healer said.

Close. It was almost amusing. The two had an interesting relationship at the very least. Not every really quite flirting, but teasing dangerously close. Not ever saying whether one loved the other, but showing they both cared. Did it have to fall on his lap to make such a decision? The gods didn't seem to want to make anything easy for him. He weighed both options in his mind.

He couldn't very well just allow her to die. There were things both of them needed to do, yet. However, a vampire would not be well tolerated by many people. She may be the Hero of Kvatch, but she would still be a vampire. Then there was the trouble of blood. Not to mention she'd still have to recover from her injuries. Allowing her death would seem the more humane option, considering the circumstance. However...

"This would be the only way?" Martin asked.

"Yes, as I've said. You'd best be making your decision quickly, we don't exactly have time to dawdle," the healer said.

Martin bowed his head. He had to make a decision quickly, but this wasn't something he could just whip up an answer to. He didn't like the idea of fooling around with someone's life, especially hers. Jauffre entered the room, fiddling with the bandage on his head. It appeared all Blades were stubborn when it came to that. The Grand Master eyed Martin carefully, then let his gaze wander to Freya.

"This decision may be a whole lot simpler than you perceive, Martin," he proclaimed.

"Really? Tell me how it could possibly be so," Martin said, shaking his head.

"Simple. We go through with it. The second you swore her in as a Blade was the second she dedicated herself to you, for the long run. It would be her duty as a Blade to live in order to serve you," Jauffre.

"G-Grand Master?" Steffan stuttered, shocked at the old man's answer.

"How could you possibly say that?" Martin asked.

"Well, that may have come off a bit more gruff than I intended. I merely meant that her pride wouldn't allow her to die, not yet. She said so in the courtyard, fighting her brother," Jauffre replied.

"Oh, you mean when she said that no matter the outcome of their fight, she would save him?" Jena asked, better understanding where the old man was coming from. "But...that doesn't mean she'd agree to this."

"She doesn't have to agree, she just has to live with it. She's so stubborn, she'd leap at the chance to prove to me how great a warrior she is. This is her chance," Jauffre explained.

"I see," Martin said shortly.

"So?" the healer prodded.

"...we'll go through with it."

**+---------------------------------------------- O/B/L/I/V/I/O/N----------------------------------------------+**

Martin thumbed through the Mysterium Xarxes carefully. He was getting a good chunk of it decrypted, so he supposed that was something positive. It had been a few hours since they'd contacted Count Hassildor, Count of Skingrad. Not many knew of his condition, but Freya had dealings with him before on a handful of occasions. They didn't yet know whether he would agree to the favour they'd asked.

Jauffre walked in, taking a seat next to Martin stiffly. He had a few things with him, but seemed agitated over the fact that his injuries slowed him down slightly. Martin looked to the old man curiously.

"Well," Jauffre began, "thanks to this note, we at least know their plans. And that they're spying on you."

Martin almost laughed. "I could have figured that one out on my own."

"Yes, well, precautions and all that," Jauffre replied, opening one of the books he'd brought with him. "Now, the man called Freyr mentioned something in the courtyard that confused me slightly. You have blue eyes."

"...yes?" Martin answered hesitantly, as though it were a trick question.

"Well, we know that, but it's a particular thing about them, you see. There was a legend that went back many years. It was said that to one tribe or blood line of each race, the gods gave these peculiar blue eyes. The thing about them was that they were the source of the being's power as far as strength, magic and anything else in that category might go," Jauffre explained.

"I see. But...what's the significance of that legend?" Martin asked.

"It is known that the Septims were one of those blood lines. The others have long since been lost, or so I thought. But it appears that the Eivarthr blood line might be one of the lost ones. In ripping out her right eye--"

"--he successfully...halved my abilities," Freya finished.

"Eh? How long have you been awake?" Jauffre asked.

"...long enough..." she responded staring at the ceiling.

"So then. You know..." Martin said quietly.

"Yeah," she replied shortly.

"And?" Jauffre asked.

"...it's alright. I'll just...be a little different," she said. "And you're right...I'm stubborn..."

"So you admit that this old man can be right once in a while?" Jauffre teased.

She turned her head slightly. "Yes...but that wasn't your entire motive..."

"What do you mean?" Martin asked.

"Neither of you...want me to die."

"Well, I should think not. I wouldn't like to see anyone die," Jauffre stated.

"That's different. In the same way that I've grown...attached to everyone here. I think...everyone's grown attached to me...as well," Freya said, closing her remaining eye.

"Well, I'd say you're about right," Martin said. "Besides, I can't let you just get away with that comment you made earlier."

"Hmm? Oh...that one," she said with a slight smile.

"We'll have to see about that later. Maybe I can manage it," he said.

"That'd be interesting."

The trio fell silent for a moment. Freya opened her eye to stare again at the ceiling. There was nothing particularly interesting about it, she just didn't want to look at either of them. It just reminded her that she was weak.

"Jauffre?" she asked.

"Yes?"

"Do you have any children?"

"No. I never had the pleasure," he responded with a chuckle, tone going a bit sarcastic on the latter word. "Why?"

"I dunno...you seem like the kind of person...that would have a lot of kids," she said.

"Oh, but he does. They're called the Blades," Martin said with a sly look.

Jauffre chortled. "Yes, I suppose that would be correct. But you're awfully chatty for someone who's half dead."

"I'm dying...be a little more sensitive...you jackass," she said with a slight grin, trying to remain awake.

Martin looked over the top of the Mysterium Xarxes momentarily. Freya seemed to be concentrating on the ceiling fiercely, in some sort of attempt to remain conscious. But he could already see she was losing. He sighed slightly... Jauffre was right about one thing, at least.

"If you're tired, you should sleep," he said.

"...don't want to..."

"If you force yourself, you'll just make things worse," he said.

"...what if... I don't wake up again...?" she asked.

"...You will. I promise," he said quietly.

She nodded slightly, seeming a bit more convinced. It wasn't long before she'd fallen asleep again. The slight smile slowly faded from Martin's lips. Jauffre watched the heir carefully, taking note of his doleful expression. He waited for the inevitable question patiently. Martin shifted slightly in his seat, looking to the old Grand Master.

"Jauffre--"

"The answer is yes. She agreed to it herself," Jauffre said, cutting him off.

"...I see," Martin said flatly.

He let silence fill the space between them.

**+---------------------------------------------- O/B/L/I/V/I/O/N----------------------------------------------+**

Martin was surprised to see Count Hassildor enter Cloud Ruler Temple a few hours later. He entered with an air of impatience, looking as though whatever he was there for had better be worth his time. Jauffre and the old healer greeted him at the door and lead him into the room where Freya and Martin were. Martin rose hastily in greeting, not particularly liking the way the Count seemed to scan him with his eyes.

"So. You are the Septim Heir," Hassildor said.

"Yes," Martin said with a slight nod.

"Hmm. Well, I received your letter and used the Mage's Guild as transportation...no doubt if I travelled on horseback she'd be dead by the time I arrived," Hassildor intoned.

"And you're willing to go along with this?" Martin asked.

"It is not my problem either way. But by agreeing to do this, _you _bear the responsibility of what happens later. This might save her life but it also might ruin it," Hassildor said, rolling up one of his sleeves. "But I trust you've already weighed the pros and cons."

"Yes, we have," Martin said firmly.

Hassildor regarded Martin carefully for a moment. Shrugging slightly, he walked over to where Freya lay. He motioned to Steffan, who quickly hurried over. Hassildor removed a dagger from his belt and Martin frowned.

"Hold her head up," Hassildor instructed Steffan.

Steffan nodded silently, doing so. Hassildor stood over Freya, holding his hand out. Delicately, he dragged the dagger across his palm, slicing it open, Blood sprang up from the wound instantly. Making a first, he turned his hand slightly and squeezed; crimson red droplets falling from his hands past Freya's lips. After a moment, he pulled his hand away, accepting the cloth from the healer and wrapping it around his hand.

For a few moments, everyone stood still. Martin began to wonder if nothing at all would happen, when Freya's left eye snapped open suddenly. Her knuckles turned white as she gripped at the bed sheets around her. She writhed furiously, beginning to claw at her chest, a strangled cry of pain finally tearing through her lungs. Hassildor motioned to Steffan again.

"Hold her down, would you?" he asked, calmly.

Steffan and Jena fought to keep her pinned on the bed as she thrashed around in pain. Martin looked quickly to the healer, clenching and unclenching his fists anxiously.

"I thought you said this was supposed to help her," Martin grated out.

"It is helping her," Hassildor interceded. "Her cellular structure is reshaping itself, so of course it's going to be painful. Don't worry, she should pass out from the pain soon enough."

Hassildor's statement proved true when she suddenly stopped thrashing, going limp instead. Steffan and Jena hesitantly let go of her, ready to hold her down again if need be. Martin heard Jauffre sigh beside him, though whether it was from exhaustion or relief, he didn't know. He fought back the urge to sigh himself, folding his arms over his chest and looking at the floor.

"Thank you," he said to Hassildor, choosing not to meet the other's eyes.

"It's not the kind of thing you want to thank anyone for...but you're welcome all the same," Hassildor responded, shrugging his cloak back on. "I suppose I should mention she's not exactly a full vampire. More like a vampire whelp. She'll still need human blood of course, but unlike most vampires she has the ability to be cured. I'm no fool. I know the legend. Get her eye back, she gets her humanity back."

"I thought as much," the healer intoned.

"Well that's good. It's a sure thing, then," Steffan said with a half grin.

Martin allowed himself a small chuckle at this. "Yes, I suppose you're right."

**+---------------------------------------------- O/B/L/I/V/I/O/N----------------------------------------------+**

_She was crying now, fallen on her knees at the feet of a great stone dragon. Chancellor Ocato hovered over her seeming awkward and out of place, confused by her grief. She could feel Freyr at her side, pulling her close in a comforting embrace._

_"It was the only way," she heard her brother say._

_But why did it have to be the only way? It didn't make sense to her. She was angry with the gods. If they had chosen her for this, why did they make it end this way? She couldn't understand..._

Freya sat up slowly, blinking blearily. Where...? She glanced around the room. That's right. She was at Cloud Ruler Temple. The Nord hesitantly brought a hand to her face, running her fingers over the bandages over her right eye. Her fight with Freyr was still fresh in her mind. Her jaw ached slightly. She ran her tongue across her teeth, stopping at her incisors. They were fang-like now, sharp. Her features wrinkled in concentration as she tried to remember what had happened...it was fuzzy.

"Oh, you're awake."

She looked to the side, seeing Martin enter the room, Skoll padding by his side and the Mysterium Xarxes tucked under one arm. She wrinkled her nose in distaste. She didn't like that book... Martin pulled up a seat next to her and smiled.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Alright," she answered. "How long was I asleep?"

"For three days," he replied.

She hung her head. "Three days? Ugh, that's shameful..."

"Well you needed the rest," Martin chuckled. "Not many people pull out of that kind of thing..."

"I'm not 'not many people', though," she said, looking up with a slight smirk.

"Well, that's all the sign I need to know you're feeling better," he said with a sigh. "You're back to you're old, cocky self."

She nodded slightly, grinning. It was good to be, well...alive. She still had a lot of things to do! She had to save her brother, protect Martin, stop the Oblivion Gates...she just simply couldn't afford to die just yet. Looking down to her hands, folded in her lap, she mumbled something. Martin blinked.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" he asked.

"I said...thank you for staying," she mumbled again, glancing up, her face red.

Martin felt his own face become heated and he coughed slightly, looking away. He waved a hand dismissively. "Well, I mean...it's not like I was going to leave. That would be...well...it's not like I would leave."

Skoll snorted. These two could be pretty damn stupid sometimes. Oh well...

"Anyway," Martin continued, changing the subject. "I managed to decode part of the Mysterium Xarxes."

"Oh? Anything of interest?" Freya asked, regarding him carefully through her remaining eye.

"Actually, yes," he said, flipping it open. "I'm beginning to understand that this book, as much as it is about Camoran's Paradise, actually _is _his paradise. We need certain objects in order to access it. I know one of them so far."

"Hmm...and what is the one you know?"

"What it describes is 'the blood of a Daedra Lord'. I've decided that this merely means that we need a Daedric Artifact. Now, they aren't exactly easy to come by, but we think that if we visit some of the Daedric Shrines here in Cyrodiil, we just might be able to find one," Martin explained. "I already have Roran and Toran reading Modern Heretics to decide where."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa...Roran and Toran?"

"Yes, they're going to be going on this mission," Martin replied.

Freya snorted. "Like hell they are."

"Oh, no, don't even think--"

"--I'm going on this mission. I'm awake, I'm perfectly--"

"--incapable of going on this mission. You're still--

"--_fine_, thanks for asking. You know that--

"--Roran and Toran are fine. You need to--

--get out of this damn bed, is what I need. Three days is--

"--not nearly enough! If you start moving around--

--it'll help! Martin."

"Freya."

"You idiot," the chorused.

**+---------------------------------------------- O/B/L/I/V/I/O/N----------------------------------------------+**

Captain Steffan looked away from Jauffre momentarily as a very agitated Martin Septim stormed into the Great Hall. Jauffre seemed a little surprised as well. The only time they'd seen him looking quite so perturbed was when Freya had brought back the Mysterium Xarxes. Martin marched straight over to Steffan.

"Captain Steffan," he boomed.

Steffan shrunk back slightly. Martin was shorter and certainly not quite as well built as Steffan, but when Martin Septim was angry, you certainly seemed to forget that. He straightened slightly.

"Yes, sir?" he asked.

"I demand you restrain Freya," he ordered.

"I, uh...yes, sir?" Steffan said, curiously.

"Too late, I'm already headed towards the door!" Freya said in a sing-song voice, somehow miraculously in armor.

"Get back here!" Martin hollered, running after her.

"No!" she shouted, busting the doors wide open.

Steffan stared, then looked slowly back to the Blades Grand Master. "Do they seem a bit...?"

"Childish, yes. But that's to be expected. Freya won't make it past the front gate," Jauffre assured him.

Steffan watched Martin follow Freya into the courtyard, gabbing constantly as she walked. But suddenly she faltered, falling to her knees. Remaining like this a moment, she rose, only to walk a few paces and fall once more. She repeated this process a few times, finally reaching the stairs, Martin still hollering furiously. Steffan was severely tempted to slap a hand to his face as he and Jauffre walked over to the two, Roran and Toran already there.

"Go, Freya, go!" the twins chorused.

"Don't encourage her!" Martin hissed.

"Shut the hell up! I'm getting out of here...even if it kills me! Ugh...why the hell can't I walk?" Freya grumbled.

"A few factors. You're still recovering from your injuries and...you need blood," Jauffre said.

Freya stopped at this, as though suddenly remembering that she was no longer exactly what one might call human. She folded her arms over her chest, thinking this over. She huffed sullenly. "I refuse."

"Don't be a child," Jauffre said sternly. "It's the only reason you're alive."

"Then on my way to a Daedric Shrine..." she said with a grunt, as she used her Akaviri Dai-Katana to hoist herself up. "...I'll suck a cow, or something."

"You need _human _blood," Jauffre stressed.

"Then it's out of the question," Freya panted.

"Then you die," Martin growled. "I thought you were better than this, Freya. You said you would do anything to get your brother back and to see this through to the end. You were willing to do anything so that you might live to accomplish those tasks. But it appears I was wrong. You're nothing more than a coward."

Jauffre did a double take, looking to Martin. His eyes burned like blue fire. He'd seen that fire before, in the eyes of Uriel Septim, and no one came near it without being burned. Such was the way with men such as they. Freya shook with unbridled fury, her remaining eye glaring daggers at the heir, who stood unflinching.

"You dare accuse me of cowardice?" the Nord hissed. "Don't you even dare try to pin that disgusting word on me, Martin. Since this whole..._masquerade_ began, I have done nothing but comply to whatever was set before me. I have completed my tasks, no matter how dangerous or vile. So you'll have to please excuse me if I'm not quite ready to deal with the fact that I'm not even human anymore."

"Whether or not you're human doesn't matter. You're still you. But if you want to live to see your brother back, you're going to have to do this. No matter how much it disgusts you, you have to understand that drinking human blood is the only way for you to survive," Martin explained.

She shook her head ruefully, placing a hand over the bandages covering her eye. "Why do you think I want to leave here so badly?"

"I don't understand," Martin answered.

"If I leave here now, while I'm still weak, I can't attack you," Freya responded. "Because since the moment I woke up, the only thing I could think about was... It's maddening. I've only been awake for an hour and it's already driving me insane. If I were to recover, even if my power has been halved, I still might...come after one of you. I can't trust myself. The less I come into contact with you, the better it--"

The sound of the slap rang out across the courtyard. Freya turned her head slowly, raising a hand to her stinging cheek, to look at Martin, hand still upraised. He looked more furious now than ever.

"So you resign yourself to death? You need time to cope, I understand that. I can't possibly imagine how you feel or how much pain you're in. I can't. I can, however, see that you're making a very bad decision, Freya. You as a warrior have always relied on you and only you, which I suppose is the reason this is so difficult for you. Don't be afraid to admit you need help. No one can do everything themselves," Martin reasoned. "I won't allow you to roll over and die, do you understand? I trust that you won't attack us_. I trust you_."

Her eye widened slightly. Hanging her head, she closed that eye. "That's not fair...Martin."

"What's not fair is you running out. Maybe the rest of us can't handle an Oblivion Gate single-handedly--"

Captain Steffan grumbled slightly at this.

"--but we can still help you. So let us," he said.

"...if I do, you must make me a promise," Freya said.

"And that would be?" Martin prodded.

"If I ever attack anyone here, I want you to kill me," Freya explained.

"...very well. And I only make that promise because I know it will never come to that," Martin said. "Now will you please get some rest?"

"...fine. But what about the Daedric Artifact?" Freya asked.

"RoTo are more than capable of handling that," Jauffre said. "Troublemakers tough they may be, they're some of our best. Don't worry, you should be well enough by the time the next mission comes around."

Freya nodded sightly. Whistling softly, she waited until Skoll padded over to the group. She smiled, kneeling down to pet him with some difficulty. The great wolf's tongue lapped at her face affectionately. He was worried for his master.

"Skoll, you've done an excellent job watching Martin for me. This time, I'll be with Martin, so I'm going to ask you to go with the twins," she informed the wolf.

Skoll whined slightly.

"I know, I know. I miss you too, but it's for the best. Please, Skoll?"

The wolf considered this. He had been enjoying being lazy, laying by the fire all day and getting scraps passed to him by Steffan. He would miss Jena's belly rubs and the way Martin scratched behind his ears in just the right spot. He would even miss Roliand's singing. But his master asked it of him, and so he couldn't deny her. He licked her face again, making his acquiescence known.

"Thank you, Skoll," she said, smiling sightly.

"We'll be back soon, Sister Freya!" Roran assured her, hugging Skoll.

"Yeah, and we'll bring you a present!" Toran added merrily.

"See you later!" the two chorused, skipping down the steps, Skoll nipping at their heels.

Jauffre sighed, watching the two go. He felt more comfortable when it was Freya on these missions, but the situation just didn't allow it. But he trusted she'd be able the next time around. Roran and Toran were able boys. They would manage splendidly, he was sure. He looked to the others.

"Right. Let's get you back inside," Jauffre said to Freya.

"I can walk my--"

But no sooner had she said this than she found Martin holding her by one arm and Steffan by the other, supporting her.

"...self," she finished lamely.

"Chivalry isn't dead yet, ma'am," Steffan said with a wink.

"Not if we have anything to say about it," Martin added for good measure.

"You two are sad, sad men," Freya sighed, allowing them to lead her inside.

Jauffre hung back for a moment, watching. The Septim Heir. His greatest warrior. His most trusted Captain. They were all young yet, even if none of them admitted it. He wondered, for a moment, where they would all be when he was gone. No matter where they were, he decided, they would be together. Supporting each other, just as they were supporting Freya now. He shook his head, following after them.

"Such a sentimental old fool am I," he sighed.

* * *

Phew. That was a long one. Anyway, as promised, with the next chapter I'll include a little tidbit to break up the emoness. In which Martin gets a papercut from the Mysterium Xarxes and the Blades freak out. -cackle-

As always, reviews are appreciated!


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